


Music, Memories, and Other Subjective Things

by iambadatcomingupwithusernames



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Dean, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, First Kiss, First Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Character Death, Musician Castiel, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, very slow burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-08-22 08:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 118,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8279236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iambadatcomingupwithusernames/pseuds/iambadatcomingupwithusernames
Summary: Is that fucking Cas? Castiel Novak? Right here, right now? How bad could his luck fucking be? Castiel stares at him with the same unreadable robot-look as ever, like the years since they were 14 never happened and they’d never met. 
In the summer they were 14, Dean and Cas met. They became friends and supported each other in managing their extremely different, dysfunctional families. Their feelings for each other, though, were more than friendly.Now it’s fall, and they’re 18. Neither has heard from the other in two years, which means that neither knows that they’re going to the same school until they end up in the same Intro to Literature class.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic will be updated every Thursday and Sunday. Tags may be updated as it continues. It will alternate between Dean and Castiel's POV. Many thanks to my beta reader, [twistedmiracle](http://archiveofourown.org/users/twistedmiracle/pseuds/twistedmiracle)! I really couldn't have done this without you. 
> 
> I made a spotify playlist based off this fic (basically songs that make me think of this fic or that encompass emotions expressive of parts of this fic) and it's [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/fieldsofgarlicforever/playlist/6FO6cnQDmyEGw79UOsr8pz).
> 
> See timeline notes at the end of the chapter.

# Then

It was one of those little fun parks, on a pier overlooking a lake in this case, complete with a ferris wheel. It was scenic and lovely, especially this late into the evening. It was late enough that the summer sky had turned to night, but the warmth of the day lingered and the artificial lighting coming from every booth and ride kept things bright. It did more than make things bright, in fact, it made everything seem to glow from the inside. The light of the pier contrasted with the dark of the water, making this place seem cut off from the world. Even with the light background noise of people laughing and yelling, this place seemed like magic.

It was nearly worth the ridiculous expense it took to get in and do anything.

“God, that thing was such a rip off,” Dean said.

“That was a blessing,” Castiel replied. “What on Earth would I have done with such a large stuffed bear toy?”

“I don’t know, you could’ve, like, hidden it in your closet,” Dean suggested, “or something. It’s a stuff toy, it wouldn’t look really dangerous or suspicious.”

Castiel stopped suddenly, pulling Dean back with him. “Did you just say I would hide it in my closet?” He asked. “Because my closet’s fairly full already, Dean.”

“Waaait,” Dean said as he narrowed his eyes at Cas, who wore a serious expression. “Was that a fucking pun?”

“Maybe,” Cas said, his serious face giving way to a smug smile.

“Oh my god,” Dean said. He shook his head and turned to keep walking.

“You shouldn’t take the Lord’s name in vain, Dean,” Cas said, prim enough that he just might have been joking. Dean honestly couldn’t tell sometimes.

“Oh my fucking god,” Dean said, “why do I hang out with you, again?”

“I have a very lovable personality,” Cas said, utterly monotone. “I am a joy to be around.”

“You better be, considering how much I’m paying to be around you right now,” Dean complained. “I shouldn’t have to pay this much to walk on a pier and eat junk.”

“I’m completely willing to pay you back for both of our tickets if the cost was a burden,” Cas said, “and no matter the price, I think this place is lovely. The type of place my entire family hates for multiple reasons, too, and it’s always nice to be sure to avoid them.” He smiled at Dean. “It’s wonderful to be here with you.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. Even after all this time it made him a bit flustered when Cas smiled at him like that, and when he talked like that. “Yeah. Wish we could spend more time out in public together. Bet we could have a lot of fun hanging out downtown.”

Cas looked down, his smile dropping a little bit.

“Yeah.” He felt guilty at the mention of how they had to be hidden. At his own lying about this or about him having this as it was at all, Castiel wasn’t sure.

“Hey,” Dean grabbed Cas’s shoulder, “Look!”

He pointed down the little way they were on, where a hundred yards away sat a little blue photo booth, between a Dip’n Dots and a cheap pizza place.

“What are we supposed to do with that?” Castiel asked. They’d both been avoiding taking pictures together, too easy for someone else to find.

“We could get pics!” Dean said, “It’s not electronic, so we won’t have to worry about deleting them or someone finding our phones or anything. And they’ll be small pictures.”

“I still don’t know...” Castiel mused. “It still seems a bit risky.”

“Yeah, but,” Dean met Cas’s eyes and then looked down at his hands, “I want something to remember this night by. I really don’t, I mean, I really don’t want to forget.”

Dean glanced back up into a solid blue stare. Cas held his eyes, the way he did, with an unreadable expression and without blinking.

“Alright,” he said after a moment. Castiel really, really wanted photos of tonight, with Dean, too. It was worth the risk. Probably.

Dean’s hopeful look turned into a full on grin. He grabbed Cas’s hand and they both did a little jog-run together to the booth. Dean got there first, and he pulled up the curtain of the booth with a little bow.

“After you,” he said, and gave little wave gesturing inside.

“Thank you, my good sir,” Cas paused to say before getting in. Dean quickly scooted in next to him and put his arm around Cas’s shoulder. Cas put in his money, clicked through the menu options, and then quickly leaned back to put his arm around Dean’s waist.

The first photo is of the two teens holding each other just like that, both smiling at the camera. One has messy, dark brown hair and very light blue eyes. He’s wearing a white button down shirt, with only the very first button undone. His outfit is slightly disheveled from the day traveling the fair. His eyes are bright and wide, his smile shy but utterly genuine. The other has close cut hair and green eyes. His grin is wide and toothy, usually it’s more of a mischievous smirk but right now it’s nearly goofy. The summer sun has made his hair a brighter blond than usual and brought out all of his freckles. He’s in worn jeans to match an old band t-shirt, and around his neck is an odd golden amulet hanging from a black leather string, a gift from his brother that he was never seen without.

The second shot has Castiel looking over to Dean, his hand moved from Dean’s waist to the back of his neck, pulling at his hair a bit. Looking at Dean has made his smile grow fuller.

The third shot has Dean looking back at him, his arm moved from Cas’s shoulders to his back. They’ve somehow managed to scoot closer together, and turn more toward each other. The camera is completely ignored as they look only into another’s eyes.

In the fourth shot they’re kissing. Dean’s moving his left hand to reach for Cas, and squeezing the arm he has already around Cas. Cas his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, and it’s just possible to see his thumb on Dean’s jaw. Cas’s other hand is now gripping the front of Dean’s shirt, pulling him closer. Both of them have closed their eyes.

In the fifth shot they’re still kissing.

In the sixth, and final, shot they’ve stopped. Dean has both arms around Cas’s waist. Cas has one arm around Dean’s shoulder and the other pressed flat to his shirt. Their foreheads are touching and their grins mirror one another. Their eyes are open, inches apart, staring away, too much in their gazes to read.

* * *

 

## Now

Four years later Castiel unpacks in his dorm room. It’s a single, a small mercy.

The room is about as large as a walk-in closet, the actual closet only two square feet. The bed sits against the windowed end of the room, opposite the door. The only reason he got a single room, small as it may be, is because he’s living in Christian themed housing. Specifically for him and people like him. The legacy students with roots from when this place was an all-Christian college. It’s easier for the other students to ignore that they haven’t moved on, and for them to ignore the way liberal tendencies have taken the university’s administration and student body.

His sister used to be in the female counterpart to this one, but she moved out sophomore year, to his parents chagrin. They allowed it, though, as long as she moved to a substance-free all-female dorm. Castiel couldn’t remember which one. He and his sister haven’t been close for awhile now, and when she went away to college it only made it easier for them to grow apart. He might try to call her up sometime after he gets settled.

Castiel thanks God silently that the school had a good music program. His family isn’t exactly pleased with his choice of major. They think that music is a perfectly good accomplishment, a way to be well-rounded, but it isn’t suitable for a life pursuit. It isn’t serious or important like business or religious studies would be, but they haven’t directly threatened Castiel over it yet. His mother, at least, is definitely trying to change his mind without threatening to disown him or pull his tuition just yet.

Castiel unpacks alone, putting up a little bookshelf across from his bed. He brought a music stand with him, along with a violin and guitar to keep in his room. Castiel puts his head to the side and surveys the room. Hmm. It’s going to be a tight fit for his little desk and stool, but he thought if he put the cases and stand by the front of the room, and scooted over the bookshelf, he just might be able to fit it under the window next to his bed. Thank the Lord the stool fit under the desk.

He had clothes, a computer, a music-player/radio, and some books, all historical, religious or biographical. The closest thing he has to a decoration is a pillow his older sister embroidered. “Trust That The Lord Made You Right” it says. He loves it more than he has ever told her. Other than that all of his belongings were just boring necessities for living- except for a little envelope he has, that he’ll keep in his underwear drawer or in the back of his closet.

In a different building, on the same campus, Dean unpacks his belongings. His roommate keeps him company, chatting along with him in what can only be described as a Southern drawl. Dean thinks they’ll get along pretty well. Dean didn’t bring any furniture, just clothing, a pile of books and school stuff he unceremoniously dumped in a pile on the floor, and a shit-ton of band posters. Dean pulls some tape out of his bag.

“How exactly are you planning on fitting all of those posters on these walls, brother?” Benny, Dean’s new roommate, asks. “I don’t mind you taking up wall-space on my side of the room, but in case you haven’ noticed, these walls are not that big.”

“I’ve got three rolls of duct tape and a GED, I’ll manage,” Dean, who is not at all sure how he’ll fit his band posters in this room, says. “I’ll have them all up by the end of this week.”

“GED?” Benny frowns, “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how in the hell did you get into this school with a GED?”

“Oh, it was this summer program thing,” Dean explains, “trying to get more disadvantaged students into Engineering. I qualified because I was technically homeless.”

“ _Technically homeless?_ ” Benny repeats, raising both eyebrows.

“Yeah, it’s a long story,” and one Dean doesn’t really want to get into at this moment, “Wanna take a break and get some lunch?”

“Sure thing,” Benny agrees. “You tried the dining hall near our building yet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Each chapter will be composed of two parts, one from the high school storyline ("Then") and one from the college storyline ("Now"). The high school storyline is in part tense, and the college storyline in present. The high school storyline scenes may be mildly nonlinear, and if there's anything confusing there will be notes on it here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Cas first met, back then, in a church youth group that both were attending for very different reasons. 
> 
> Dean and Cas first meet again, now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday update! I've been excited to update this fic ever since Thursday, it's required a bit of self-control to stick to a schedule. I wish I could just post it all at once.

## Then

 

“Lucifer’s been in ‘the bathroom’ a really long time now,” Anneal muttered to Gabriel, just loudly enough for Castiel, sitting on her other side, to hear. Zachariah lectured on, oblivious to this little side conversation.

“What am I supposed to do about that?” Gabriel replied under his breath.

“Go check on him,” Anneal said. “Do you really want to wait until Michael notices?”

“What, so I can get in trouble too?” Gabriel hissed. “He’ll come back. He knows mother’s pissed at him already.”

“Is there something I could be aware of?” Zachariah's voice went up a level as he suddenly looked up from the bible he’d been reading from. “Are a few of you having some spiritual breakthrough so intense that you just had to speak on it? Or is there, as I suspect, some more mundane concern distracting some of you from learning about your own salvation?”

There was silence as everyone in the room found somewhere to look besides at Zachariah, who scanned them all with narrowed eyes. Though Castiel knows he should respect Zachariah as a man of the cloth and as his uncle, he could admit privately that he found him more intimidating than anything else. No matter whether Zachariah was intimidating or not, Castiel knew he wasn’t about to tell on Gabriel or Anneal. That would be breaking some of the unwritten rules of his family.

“Whatever the topic was, I’m sure it was more important than your eternal souls,” Zachariah said with a condescending smile. “No one cares to share?”

There was only more silence in response to this. Zachariah wouldn’t look over at them, Castiel was sure. If he had thought it was them, then Zachariah wouldn’t have said anything there. He would’ve waited and called their mother, kept things in the family. It didn’t really matter. He’d probably let it go in a moment, Castiel guessed.

That guess would’ve been wrong.

“Mr. Winchester?” Zachariah turned to the newest student in the group.

This student stuck out from the others; his clothes were much more worn and casual. He even had a leather jacket folded over the back of his seat, though with the heat outside Castiel didn’t know why he’d bring it at all. He’d only been to this group a couple of times, always introduced himself as Dean Winchester. Every time would he’d just rest head on his hand and completely space out. Castiel wondered why he came at all- this was a Bible study group, not a school class, and it was the middle of summer. Dean’s family wasn’t even a part of church.

“What?” Dean asked.

“I just wondered if you had anything to share with us,” Zachariah answered.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dean said.

“I didn’t say that you had,” Zachariah said, with slight emphasis on the word “say”. The implication was obvious, and someone in the room snickered a bit.

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t,” Dean said, crossing his arms, “because I wasn’t speaking during your lesson.”

“It’s not _my_ lesson, Mr. Winchester,” Zachariah corrected. “The lesson is for you. I’m not even the one making the lesson. I’m simply delivering it to you, from its original source: The Holy Bible. Even if you don’t think that’s important, some here do.”

“I told you,” Dean said, putting emphasis on each word, “I didn’t say anything.”

There was silence as Zachariah looked down at Dean and Dean glowered back. No one else in the room spoke. Castiel felt his stomach pinch, knowing that Dean was telling the truth. It was Anna and Gabriel who’d been talking. He didn’t know what would’ve happened next, had that not been the door opened.

Lucifer strode on in and sat down. It had been a little more than an hour since he left, supposedly for the bathroom. Everyone stared at him.

“You know,” Zechariah spoke after a moment, “I do believe with the number of distractions happening today, not one of you is learning much at all. Let’s break early today. All of you head over to the social hall, there should be food set out for lunch. You can wait there until your parents come to pick you up, or call them to let them know we ended early today.”

As everyone quietly got up to leave, Zachariah added, “Lucifer, I’d like you to stay here, please. Michael, you can stay too, if you’d like.”

Castiel couldn’t imagine anything good was going to come out of this. He knew that Lucifer hadn’t been around as much lately, though he didn’t know the specifics of where he had been, and he knew their parents weren’t exactly pleased with this. This wasn’t something usually spoken about outright in his family, but his mother had been speaking privately to Lucifer more lately. Anna and Gabriel were worried, and some of his father’s prayers and family sermons had been rather... pointed, lately.

Castiel’s parents were founders of two political Christian organizations and his grandfather owned a large corporation. His mother spoke often about how their family was trying to accomplish important things for God, and how more would be expected of all of them as a result. Mistakes like Lucifer had been making lately we're not done in the Novak family.

“Do you think Lucifer will be... alright?” Castiel asked Anneal as they stood in line for food.

“Yes,” Anneal said, after a pause, “I’m sure it will be fine.” Gabriel, one ahead of them in line, snorted.

Castiel glanced behind them. There was the Winchester boy, Dean, at the end of the line.

“You nearly got him in trouble,” Castiel said, with a gesture over to Dean.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Gabriel said, “he’s fine, and he only come here to steal food anyway.”

Castiel blinked at him.

“It’s not really stealing,” Anneal remarked, “as it’s free. But it does seem like the free food is why he’s coming. Gabriel noticed him taking a bunch of it at the end the last couple of sessions.”

“He should be glad we don’t mention it,” Gabriel said, “not worried about whether or not we get him in trouble for muttering. They’d probably kick him out if they figured it out- ooooh, taco day.”

They’d gotten to the front of the line. Castiel grabbed his plate and went off with Anneal and Gabriel, but he continued to Dean watch as his siblings spoke to each other. When Dean got to the food he worked on piling his plate very high- a few moments into that he stopped, though. Dean glanced around, and then grabbed the entire bag of tortillas along and poured all the meat and salsa left on his plate. He then headed straight outside- the lunch was always at the end of the Bible studies.

Castiel looked at Anneal and Gabriel, neither of whom seemed to notice, and then turned to follow him. When he got outside, Dean was sitting on the church lawn, food laid out in front of him and jacket carefully folded beside him. He looked like he was having a lonely little picnic. Castiel, not sure what else to do, went up and sat down next to him on the grass. Dean stared at him when he sat down, but Castiel pretended not to notice and just started eating.

“Who are you?” Dean asked bluntly.

“Castiel Novak,” Castiel answered. “Why did you take the tortilla bag?”

Dean kept on staring at Castiel as he answered.

“Because they’re delicious,” he said. “Why the hell do you think?”

“You’re not supposed to say that,” Castiel corrected. He’d heard people say swear words before, but not usually so casually. He kept thinking about Dean taking the whole bag of tortillas. “Do you need food?”

“We all need food to live, Cas,” Dean said, and then, as if to prove his point, shoved a particularly large bite of taco into his mouth. Castiel stared almost in awe as he managed to fit it all in and chew.

“Did you just call me Cas?” Castiel asked.

Dean managed to swallow down his food before answering.

“What, has no one ever called you that before?” Dean said. “Everyone went for the full three beats? Castiel, I mean, it’s a nice name, kinda pretty even, don’t get me wrong- but it’s not exactly the easiest or shortest thing to pronounce.”

“I don’t think my parents approve of nicknames,” Cas explained. He liked that Dean thought his name was pretty, though. “I know Anneal and Gabriel go by Anna and Gabe at school, and Lucifer goes by Luce, but we don’t use nicknames at home.”

“God, really?” Dean asks. “The only thing I can think of worse than naming your kid Lucifer is actually making him go by it. All those names  from the bible somehow?”

“Not just Biblical names,” Cas explained. “Angels. Castiel is the angel of Thursday.”

“Thursdays are your day, then, huh, Cas?” Dean asked with a smile. Cas decided he liked his new nickname. If nearly all his siblings got to have nicknames, why shouldn’t he have one as well?

“Well, they’re not truly my day,” Cas said, “just a day associated with my namesake.” There was a pause in conversation, and they all ate in silence for a bit.

“Are your parents going to pick you up soon, then?” Cas asked.

“Nah,” Dean said, “but I am waiting for someone. Our place’s within walking distance.”

Cas looked up to check if anyone was coming. He knew there was a motel across the street, a motel his parents and all the adults had always told him to stay away from, but he didn’t know there were any houses nearby.

“Is that him?” He asked.

A kid, probably a few years younger than Cas was at 14, was walking across the street over to them. He wore an oversized pair of pants and some t-shirt with a worn out science summer camp slogan. His hair was brown, a bit shaggy. He walked with a little half-jog, like he was restraining himself from skipping or running.

“Speak of the devil,” Dean said, turning his head. “EH YO! SAMMY! LUNCH!”

The kid waved and started running over. He nearly sprinted there and then plopped himself right next to them.

“Tacos!” He said right after sitting down. “Nice!”

He was preoccupied enough with the food that it took him a second to notice that Cas was there. When he did, he immediately looked over to Dean.

“Who’s this?” Sam asked.

“Sam, this is Cas,” Dean introduced them with a few waves of his, “church group dude and new friend. Cas, this is Sam, the most irritating little brother a guy could have.”

“We’re friends?” Cas asked.

“Shut up!” Sam said simultaneously.

“We don’t have to be,” Dean said with a shrug, “if you don’t want to be. What’d you come over here for then, though?”

Cas really wasn’t sure why he came over here.

“No,” Cas said. “I think I want to be friends.”

Cas wondered what was next. What did friends do, when they weren’t siblings? He offered Dean his hand. Dean and Sam both stared at him like he had just spoken some foreign language.

“What?” Dean asked.

“Friends?” Cas asked back.

Dean burst out laughing and Cas almost took his hand back. But then, still laughing, Dean grabbed Cas’s hand and shook it profusely.

“Definitely,” Dean grinned.

* * *

## Now

 

Castiel’s first class is an 8 AM one. He’d been getting up at 7 AM every day for most of his life, often for either religious services or music lessons, but somehow he’d never really gotten used to getting up early. He drags himself up at out of bed, thanking God that he always put out his outfits the night before.

This class is, Cas checks, Intro to Lit. It might be an unnecessary breadth credit, but he was ready. Castiel enjoys academics- more than the other parts of his life, at least. He’s already gotten a decent amount of credits from AP high school classes, he feels fairly prepared for the rest of his breadth classes.

He sighs over his cereal, checks his watch. He’ll be early, how he liked it.

He looks up where the class was on his schedule again before setting out. The air is still nice this time of year, not nearly as hot or humid as it would be in his midwestern hometown. It’s a quick, pleasant walk to class.

He’s the second one there, which gives him plenty of time to set up at the back of the classroom. Here he’d be much more likely only be called on when he actually wanted to participate and he’d be able to observe all his classmates, rather than the other way around.

As more and more of his classmates shuffle in it was this vantage point that let him see Dean first.

Everything stops. His insides turn to lead. All he can do is stare.

How could Dean be here? Here, now, after all this time?

Cas’s breathing speeds up and he has to struggle to try to relax. He semi-automatically tries to school his features into blankness.

Dean looks up and sees him, and Cas sees the same look of utter astonishment that must have taken up his own features moments ago reflected back at him from Dean’s face. The guy next to Dean says something to him, and the spell breaks. Dean looks away.

Cas sinks down into his seat, feeling somehow deflated. He continues to stare at Dean for a few more minutes, as Dean utterly ignores him. As the professor starts talking he finally tears his eyes away from the back of Dean's head.

How is he supposed to deal with this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Timeline notes: The "Then" scene is the first time Dean and Cas have met, so obviously it's chronologically before the "Then" scene from the last chapter. The "Now" scenes are always chronologically linear.
> 
> Fourteen year old Dean and Cas are so adorable, aren't they?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean and Cas were fast friends, with nothing but affection for each other.
> 
> Now Dean has to deal with seeing that asshole again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thursday update, as promised. Why do homework when I have fan fic to post?

## Then

“It’s not a competition, Dean,” Cas said.  “And if it was then, overall, I would be winning.”

“With four siblings you’re not competitive at all,” Dean said and rolled his eyes. “And I might’ve eaten less, but I ate faster per taco."

“That is ridiculous and untrue,” Cas commented. “Also, my siblings and I are not all that competitive. Well, we all can be, at times, but I don’t think our parents would stand for the stereotypical sibling rivalry.”

“Well then, you’re missing out,” Dean said. “I’ll just be competitive with you. Make sure you get a taste of defeat, to humble you.”

“I so appreciate you putting effort into competing with me, Dean, so that I may have the experience,” Cas said. “How shall you teach me?”

“Hmm,” Dean hums. He looks around, eyes narrowed for what to do. “Race me. Completely, all around the church.” The Church had a gravel pathway, running all around the building and taking a scenic route through the gardens in the back.

“That sounds… undignified,” Cas said. He was certain that Zachariah wouldn’t approve. Zachariah would, at the very least, be disapproving, and might actually consider such a race disrespectful verging blasphemous.

“So, you chicken?” Dean asked. He arched an eyebrow, and cocked his head. Cas, perhaps, should have been infuriated, but instead only got a light, warm feeling in his chest. Dean’s goofiness was contagious, he supposed.

He looked over to Dean with arched eyebrows and a smile. “But I do believe that I’m not going to learn defeat from it.”

Cas jumped up and bolted forward as fast as he could. Zachariah was inside, he probably wouldn’t notice.

“That’s cheating!” Dean yelled, scrambling after him. It was too hot and humid to run, and Cas could hear Dean laughing behind him. Everything was motion and laughter in a way Castiel rarely got to experience.

Dean was faster than Cas had expected, he probably did this kind of thing more often, and pulled ahead. Dean glanced behind, and Cas got a flash of teeth from a wide grin.

Dean might have been faster, but Cas knew this place better. Cas spotted a little stone path through one of the garden plots ahead of him, and he broke off to hop through it. Dean would have to go all the way around.

“Hey!” Dean shouted after him, as Cas skidded around a the corner of the church. He forced his tired muscles to keep working, it was a home run to the front of the building. He could hear Dean running behind him, getting closer as Cas’s fatigue got to him and he slowed.

It wasn’t enough to lose the race, though, and Cas ran right back into their little spot of grass. Dean followed, moments after. He heard laughter behind him again, and this time it wasn’t Dean. Anna and Gabriel at least, had apparently come out here as well.

“Woo hoo!” Gabe yelled. “Go little bro!”

“You two are lucky Zach’s inside!” Anna shouts to them.

Cas was breathing hard and fast, leaning down with his hands on his knees. When Dean came close enough Cas grabbed onto his shoulders and leaned down on him for support, knocking Dean off balance a bit.

“H-hey!” Dean said, taking a few steps sideways into a nearby tree. “Ow.”

“I,” Castiel started, but then immediately had to take a breath, “am,” gasp, “so winded.”

“Whose,” Dean was breathing heavy, too, as he spoke, “fault is that?”

“Yours,” Cas grinned, pulling himself up to look into Dean’s face. Dean smiled and chuckled a bit. Cas’s own grin grew wider at that. The day was too warm for them to stand this close, really, but Cas didn’t care. He truly felt like he had a friend, one outside his family, for the first time.

“Blaming me,” Dean grumbled, “I’m just trying to- to give you the experience of competition, Cas.”

“You should find some competition for me, then,” Cas said.

“Oh! Oh, Cas,” Dean faked a pained noise, “hitting me where it hurts.”

They both burst out laughing at this. They laughed and laughed, even though it wasn’t really that funny, and just couldn’t stop. They probably looked ridiculous, but Cas didn’t care. Dean laughed so hard he nearly fell over, so he grabbed onto Cas- only Cas was already holding onto him. They both tumbled onto the ground.

The ground was grass, so this didn’t hurt too much, but the dirt was too packed to be really be soft. It stung.

“What are you two idiots doing?” Gabriel shouted at them. Dean tried to respond, but they were still calming down with the laughter, and both he and Cas were still giggling a bit too much.

Cas looked over and Dean.

“I very much appreciate this experience of competition, Dean,” he said, his grave tone not matching his face.

Right there, on the ground outside of that ridiculous church, probably coated in sweat and grass stains, Dean was still smarting like hell, and Castiel’s older brother openly laughing at them, was the first time Dean remembers wanting to kiss Castiel.

Dean pushed himself up off the ground and brushed himself off, brushing off both the grass, and that feeling. That was an odd feeling, but it was probably just a random impulse. Just a momentary confusion.

He offered Cas a hand up. Cas smiled and took it, and Dean didn’t even try to brush off the affection that rose up through his chest at the sight of that smile.

* * *

## Now

Oh, shit. Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

Is that fucking Cas? Castiel Novak? Right here, right now? How bad could his luck fucking be?

Dude stares at him with the same unreadable robot-look as ever, like the years since they were 14 never happened and they’d never met. Wow. That’s... painful. At least Cas is acknowledging that he’s here. At least Cas seems to remember him. But the blank look on Castiel’s face still made Dean’s stomach twist and his chest ache. Or maybe that’s from seeing him here at all.

“You here?” Benny nudges Dean’s shoulder. “Hello? Earth to Dean?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean says. He shakes his head and turns to Benny, intently pretending that he can’t feel Cas’s gaze like a physical force pressing against his back. “Sorry. Just spaced out there.”

Benny chuckles. “Save it for the lecture, brother.”

They take a seat a couple rows back. Dean feels Cas watching him the entire time- or at least thinks he did. Maybe he’s already looked away.

The teacher, Professor Mosley, starts writing on the board.

“I’m Professor Mosley,” she starts, “and this is Intro to Literature. If that’s not the class you’re looking for, then get out. Now, I’m going to see who's here and then just get going with the lesson. We have a lot to cover and not a lot of time, not including the fact that many of you will skip much of that class time, so I’m not going to waste much of this class. I’m not here to torture you, we’re just gonna try for a little efficiency. If you’ve got any questions, ask ‘em while I take attendance.”

She pauses. No one says anything.

“Good. Now, an Introduction to Literature,” she says. “I suppose some of you think you already learned about literature in high school. All those English courses, bet you think you’ve already been introduced enough.” She pauses. “I like to nip those kinds of thoughts in the bud. Let’s start with the basics. Can anyone here tell me what ‘literature’ is?”

There are several moments of silence.

“Anyone?” She asks again.

Castiel speaks up after a few more moments of silence: “There can be different definitions, depending on the context. But the most common one, and the one I think this course is about, is that literature, a piece of literature is a written work that influenced things. That has lasted, in it’s importance and influence.” Dean breathes evenly, solidly. Of course Cas knows the answer, he’s always been smart. Just as talkative in academic situations as social situations, Cas even used to claim he was more talkative in academic situations, when he wasn’t around Dean- Woah, this is not the time to reminisce.

“Very good,” Mosley says. “A very encompassing perspective, which was exactly what I was looking for Mr...?”

“Castiel Novak,” Cas says. Dean tells himself that Cas’s voice doesn’t stir up any feelings in him. It doesn’t stir up any feelings, because it’s like he and Cas never met, and Cas is an asshole anyway, and he should just hold it in. Hold it in and not react.

“Brother, you’re looking a little constipated,” Benny mutters to Dean. “You need to go you can go.”

“I’m fine,” Dean mutters back.

“Thank you, Mr. Novak,” she says, turning away to write what he said on the board. “Now, you’ve been introduced to literature. Class is over, right?” She turns to look over at her students again and lets another pause fill the room. Cas is going to answer again, Dean just knows it.

“No,” Dean says suddenly. Before Cas can say anything.

“Yes?” Prof. Mosley asks. “Mr-”

“Winchester,” Dean says. “It can’t be the end of class because, uh, for one thing we have a couple more hours. And, um, because what does that definition mean? I mean, ‘influenced things’? What things? What’s influence? What counts as long lasting? I mean really, when you think about it, that definition doesn’t mean much at all.”

Castiel frowns down at the back of Dean’s head. Dean isn’t a big talker in class, right? He’s good at school work, but he’s never been a big class participant, that’s what Dean always said. Is Dean doing this just to mess with him? Or did that change, over the last couple years? A lot of parts of Dean probably have changed, Cas reminds himself. It’s been years, who knows what may have happened. People change.

People do change, in general. But the idea of Dean specifically changing, in ways that Castiel doesn’t know about, pains him. And the realization that it pained him to think he doesn’t know Dean irritates him. It has been years. Castiel has changed as well, and Dean made it clear years ago that he didn’t care about continuing to know him. Well, he didn’t care enough to keep in contact, anyway.

No matter what else he’s feeling, Cas is angry. Or maybe he’s angry because of the other things he’s feeling. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that Dean basically just _contradicted_ him in class.

“I’d say it has some meaning,” Castiel speaks up to say, right after Dean finishes speaking. “All definitions are created from other words, with the understanding that others will understand those words. And, generally, we do. I don’t think there’s anyone in this class who doesn’t know what influence, things, or lasting means as words. And from their combination, we all get an idea of what literature means, as a word. We add our own subjective meanings to these words, perhaps, but that isn’t the same as a _lack_ of meaning.”

“I’m glad some of y’all have finally decided to participate,” Mosley interjects right at the end of Castiel’s final sentence. “And both of you have good points. So I suggest we get to defining these words more clearly, as they do have meaning, rather than leaving them to the individual subjective mind.”

Dean turns around in his chair to glare up at Castiel. He feels resentful, angry, pained and maybe a few other things that he can’t quite discern at the moment, and he did his very best to communicate all of that within this one glare. Castiel returns the glare, with his own mix of convoluted emotions squeezing their way out onto his face.

“This is gonna be a pretty competitive class in discussions, ain’t it,” Benny grumbles to himself. Benny does not turn out to be wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing weird with the timeline here, just after another church lesson. Also a direct continuation of the last "Now" scene, but from Dean's perspective.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then, before Dean even met Castiel, he had to be driven to attend a church group for food.
> 
> Now Dean checks out clubs at college.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize that I accidentally released the last chapter a day early. Oops. Well, here's this chapter on time this Sunday.

##  Then

The only thing Dean could think at night was that walls of this fucking place were way too thin. It was lucky that it was mid-May and school was out, so he and Sam could to sleep as much as they wanted during the day. Their father had dropped them off here a couple of weeks ago, but he’d stopped by last weekend. He was still wiring money to them, though, and sending check-up texts.

That wasn’t always enough for Sammy.

“We’ve been having peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cereal and bagel bites over and over, Dean,” Sam whined as he looked down at their most recent dinner.

“Well,  _ sorry,”  _ Dean said as he thumped his own plate down on the table, “but that’s just what I know how to make, Sam.”  _ And it’s what’s our price range.  _

“Dad knows how to make more than that,” Sam said quietly, as though speaking to himself, but loudly enough for Dean to hear, “or he takes out. He doesn’t fix the same goddamn thing-”

“Hey!” Dean interrupted. “What’d I say about swearing, Sam?”

“You swear all the  _ fucking  _ time, Dean!”

“Yeah?” Dean said. “Well, I’m nearly fifteen. I get to swear. You’re ten, Sammy, you can’t start swearing yet.”

“You’re fourteen, Dean!” Sam said. “You’re still fourteen! You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

“Dad left me in charge, so, yeah, I sorta do, Sam,” Dean said, voice rising.

“Dad may have left you in charge, but you’re not Dad!” Sam flat-out shouted. “And I’m not eating this! I’m sick of this!” 

Sam jumped up from the table and ran out of the room.

“Yeah, well, fuck you!” Dean yelled after him. “You don’t have to fucking eat at all, then!”

Sam ran into the bathroom, the one other room they had in this place, and slammed the door behind him. Dean stood in silence for a few moments, absolutely fuming. He was doing the best he could here, of course he wasn’t fucking Dad! But maybe, if Sam cooperated, Dean could have things going well for when Dad got back-

Slams on the wall from the room to the right interrupted Dean’s internal tirade.

“Could you little shits quiet down in there!?” A hoarse voice from the other room shouted. “I’m trying to get a bit of shut-eye here!”

“Fuck you dude!” Dean yelled back. “It’s fucking seven thirty, you do not need to sleep yet!”

Of course, this only made his neighbor knock and yell more. Dean decided yelling back wasn’t the best course of action. He turned around to look at their dinner still on the table and sighed.

Dean ran his hand through his hair, and rested his face in his hand for a moment. Then he quietly walked over to the bathroom, where Sam had locked himself in. Dean stood for a moment, trying to think of what to say. He actually opened his mouth a couple of times, but nothing came out. After a few minutes he pressed his ear to the door. Sam’s gaspy crying breaths were just audible from outside the door.

Dean closed his eyes and just stood against the door for a moment. Guilt came crashing down at him. Sammy was doing the best he could. He was only ten. It was Dean’s job to take care of him, and make sure he was okay. 

After a few minutes Dean pulled himself upright. He wasn’t going to bother Sammy, not right now. Instead Dean decided on a walk. Just a short walk, to clear his head and think of some new thing to fix this for Sam. Dean grabbed a pen from Sam’s backpack and scrolled a note on the back of a receipt lying around, just one piece of garbage out of the many pieces that had accumulated over the past few days.

He wrote a little note on it, then set off into the late summer evening.

The motel they were staying at was near the center of town here. To the right Dean could get to downtown, and even in a smaller town like this downtown would be too crowded for Dean’s current mood. To the left Dean would come to the residential neighborhood near town. Even the smaller houses were above the reaches of his family, and Dean hardly needed the big fancy houses to remind him exactly how much better other families were doing.

He hung out in the motel’s parking lot for a bit, tried to see if he could steal a snack from the vending machine. After about twenty minutes on his knees in weird positions, banging on and reaching into the machine Dean decided that this was a dead end. Eventually Dean just made his way across the street.

Across the street was a fairly large church. It had an open gate, which lead to a path through a green lawn. Dean absent-mindedly wandered down it. If they really didn’t want him here they would have closed and locked the gate, he reasoned. Dean could tell from the dark lines of the wood that it was old. Most of the doorways of the church looked like they were engraved, and all of the windows were made out of stained glass in colors it was too dark to see. The whole thing seemed ominous to Dean, but maybe that was just because they hadn’t been to a church in so long. Dean was still wandering around outside the church, trying to decide if it was his mood or if this was just an objectively empty-feeling church, when it started to rain.

Rain came pretty quickly in the summer here. Storms would threaten for days, rain hard for a few hours, and then be completely gone. When Dean felt the first couple of drops on his face and hands he headed for the bench on the path leading up to the church. It had a little overhang sheltering it, with a bulletin board making up the back of the shelter behind the bench.

Dean sat for a few minutes, and read the different signs. Knitting group, old people finding jesus group, sermon group- hey! Kids study group. When Dean scanned the flier he wasn’t sure what he was looking for; he hadn’t really felt any faith in god for awhile, if ever. He looked at it out of boredom and because it was in his age range, but the last line caught his eye.

“Complimentary lunch after every session,” it said, “open to all.” Dean knew well enough to read between the lines and know that “complimentary” meant free with a price. Well, if the price for this lunch was going to a little church group, Dean could pay it. 

Dean took a pic of the flier with his phone, and then ran through the rain back to the motel. When he got in Sam was lying down on his bed, flipping through the pages of one of his nerdy fiction books he’d read so many times. Sam looked up but didn’t say anything when he came in.

Dean came over and sat on the bed next to Sam. After he pulled off his shoes he began talking to Sam, without looking at him.

“I know things are hard right now,” Dean started, “and Dad hasn’t been back in a bit. I’m really trying my best while he’s gone, Sammy, and I promise he’s coming back soon. Can you please just try to- just work with me, okay, while he’s gone? I know I don’t always do the best job, but, can you just, be patient, okay?”

Dean glanced over to Sam, who looked quickly up at him and then back down at him book. After a moment Sam nodded.

“I’m trying, too, Dean,” Sam said.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said, “and because of that I think I should start walking you to the library more, don’t you?”

“The library’s in walking distance?” Sam’s head went right up with the question. What a nerd.

“Yeah,” Dean said, “it’s downtown. I mean, it’s a bit of a walk, but we can do it once or twice a week. And-” Dean had to raise his voice a bit over Sam’s squealing “-I think I may have found a way to get you a new meal, every once in awhile.”

“Really?” Sam asked. “How?”

“There’s a kids church group across the street,” Dean explained, “meets once a week. You’re still too young, but I’m old enough. It’ll be boring as hell, but they’ll have some free food, and it’ll be different from what I make. If it’s not better then I’ll never have to go back, and you can continue to enjoy my lovely cooking.”

“Your lovely cooking sucks, Dean,” Sam said, still smiling.

“Bitch,” Dean said.

“Jerk,” Sam retorted.

* * *

 

##  Now

Benny split to meet with his advisor (or at least try to) after that class, but Dean decided to explore campus a bit before heading back to his dorm room. He’d had vague intentions of doing that even before class. The fact that Dean is now determined to keep his interaction with Cas from ruining his day just cements his plans. 

It doesn’t bother him that after the class Cas left immediately and didn’t acknowledge him. It doesn’t bother him that he and Cas were butting heads in their first class together. Well, it only bothers him a bit. As long as Dean holds onto his phone hard enough that his hands didn't shake and as long as Dean manages to speak casually through the lump in his throat then it doesn’t really matter, does it? He can manage.

Dean decides to head over to the student union. There had been club fairs over there for the past few days, and Dean’s pretty sure that the club fairs are supposed to last the entire first week of school. It seems like a good place to be social, make new friends, and forget old ones.

There are a number of booths and students handing out fliers in the student union. Political organizations, charity organizations, clubs based on similar interests, and a number of frats and sororities fill the main concourse of the Union with brightly colored paper leaflets and enthusiastic shouting. Between the students hurrying through, the ones sitting bored or attentive at booths, and the students advertising their clubs Mormon-style, trying to hand a leaflet to everyone who gets within three feet of them, the place is rushed and chaotic, but also happy and energetic. The smell of Chinese food from the Union’s cafeteria gives the place a pleasant yet odd aroma. Dean wonders if he could find any of the people he met at orientation or other new students willing to have lunch with him.

First he scans over the frat and sorority tables, walking alongside them casually and getting a leaflet from an upperclassman boy in the process. Dean had considered joining a frat, but none of them really impress him. They all seem like good guys, and Dean is definitely planning to enjoy some frat parties and sorority girls in the future, but Dean likes his current dorm. He’s not really sure he’s ready to live with that many other people, either. He peels off and heads toward some of the interest based clubs.

He can’t help staring a bit when he passes a table with a gorgeous red-headed chick in full armour standing in front of it. Most people just pass the booth by casually, but Dean isn’t the only one looking. One girl stops beside him and takes out her camera to take a picture.

“Hey Charlie!” A brunette from across the room shouts, and armour girl looks over. “You were supposed to be with us today, turning the freshmen gay!”

“Full armour is hot enough to turn anyone gay!” Charlie yells back. “I’ll help staff Pride’s table later!”

Dean looks over to the brunette’s table to see that it was decked out in some of the brightest colors there, including a rainbow flag tablecloth. When he glances away he hears someone talk to him from right beside him and it makes him jump.

“Interested in the club?” Charlie asks.

“No, I’m not gay,” Dean answers, mind still on the Pride table. Then he realizes Charlie was offering him a leaflet for the LARP club. “I mean- I’m not interested in, um, EL-Ay-AR-PEE-ing, whatever that is- sorry, was just, looking across the room, cause there was a yelling girl, you know, well, of course  _ you  _ know, but, um, no. No. Yeah.” Dean is about to bang his face on a booth until the flush leaks out of it at this point.

Charlie takes it with a remarkably straight face, though a rather strained straight face. A face that isn’t completely restraining her lips from curling upward.

“You don’t have to be gay, you know,” she says, “ “for LARPing or the Pride Center. Meg was just joking. The Pride Center actually has a bunch of clubs and events, all of which are open to allies. And LARPing is Live Action Role Play- for Dungeons & Dragons, not sex.” She adds the last clarification after noticing Dean’s expression at the words “role play”.

“Oh,” Dean says, “so nerdy shit.” Sam’d be into that, but Sam is a 5 hour drive away. 

“Take a flier,” Charlie shoves a paper in his hands, “it is ‘nerdy shit’ but it’s fun as hell, so you should give it a shot. We spar sometimes, do paintball for some of the more sci-fi games- you might like this nerdy shit more than you think.”

“Thanks,” Dean says. “I’ll think about it.” He doesn’t really plan to, but he’s made enough of an ass out of himself so far. “Hey, wait, I think that’s someone from orientation!” Dean quickly makes his escape. 

Dean actually did see someone from orientation, one of the upperclassmen leaders, and now he’s going to have to go make conversation. He tries to remember the dude’s name as he walks over. Garret? Gordon? Something starting with G.

“Hey Dean!” The guy says before Dean actually gets all the way to him. “It’s me, Garth, from orientation! You joined any clubs yet?”

“Uh, no,” Dean answers. “You?”

“Oh, I’ve joined the hunger charity, the amateur improv club, the campus Chapel’s charity group, the Women’s Rights Coalition, and I’m gonna join one of the mentor programs for youth, if I can,” Garth says in an enthusiastic rapid fire of information.

“Sounds like you’ve... done a bunch, then,” Dean manages. “Um, wanna maybe get lunch, then?”

“Sure!” Garth says. “There’s this nice little cafe in the cafeteria here, do you know?”

They head off to have lunch, and Dean ends up with Garth as a friend somehow, in some mysterious way that has more to do with Garth than Dean. They go back to the fair for a bit before it ends, and Dean does end up joining a club to watch films. Garth ends up joining the LARP club, though Charlie warns him that with all his activities he might just end up having to drop it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t worry LARPers, Dean’s not gay. 
> 
> The "Then" scene is from before Dean and Cas met, obviously.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas brought his violin to bible studies so that he could play something for Dean.
> 
> Now Castiel meets his fellow housing members for the first time. It’s going to be a long year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo, it's technically still Thursday where I am. That counts, right?
> 
> Warning for homophobic language in this chapter.

##  Then

“Castiel,” Gabriel said, “you know we’re just going to our regular bible studies lecture from our dear old uncle, right?”

“Yes, Gabriel,” Cas said, turning his head to the side to squint at his brother, “of course I know that. We come here every week.”

“Then why,” Gabriel asked, “have you brought your fiddle?”

“It’s actually a violin, Gabriel,” Michael interjected from the driver’s seat before Castiel could speak. “Though that is a very good question. Why do you have your violin with you?”

“My friend Dean, from the class, he wanted to hear me play a bit,” Cas answered. He decided not to mention that a violin and a fiddle are, in fact, the same thing. He figured Michael wouldn’t appreciate it.

“Hmm,” Michael said. “I had wanted to talk to you about this, Castiel. I’m not sure Dean is actually a very... appropriate associate for you. I know he seems kind, but you’re very innocent, Castiel. It’s a good thing, but we worry about you.”

“I don’t really worry,” Lucifer said from the back seat. “Our little brother's going to learn as he learns, isn’t he? Anyway, it’s a fu- freaking church meeting. There isn’t any need to worry.”

“Language. And we’re just trying to look out for Castiel,” Michael replied, “though perhaps it’s good that you don’t worry about him, Lucifer. You should probably save all of your worry for yourself, currently.”

“I-” Lucifer made a choking noise and stopped. “I am certain I’ll be  _ fine _ , Michael. I have you and mother looking after me, don’t I? How could I be anything but.”

“They’ll look after you even better in reform school when it starts this September,” Michael replied in a casual way. His anger, so carefully left out of his tone, showed in the line of his mouth when Castiel glanced up at him through the rear-view mirror. “Unless you’re hoping that if you continue to petulantly toe the line, as you have been doing these past few days, will get mother to relent on that point.” Michael looked sharply up for a moment through the mirror himself and Castiel looked down, though he knew Michael wasn’t looking at him. “I hope not. There’s not a  _ prayer  _ of that.”

Lucifer crossed his arms and looked away. The rest of the car ride and the walk to the church library was spent in a very loud silence, every small noise making Castiel twitch.

Finally they got to the library, where Castiel claimed a chair next to Anneal, with an empty seat on his other side. He always got here before Dean. Soon others arrived, and the casual chatter that began around them loosened the atmosphere.

“Don’t worry about Michael,” Anneal muttered to Castiel. “Make friends with who you want to. It’s not like Mother’s said anything.”

“Not yet, but what if Mother did say something?” Castiel asked her, in the same low tone. “Would you let him go, if he were your friend?”

Anneal didn’t reply to that for a few moments.

“I don’t know,” She said finally. “I really don’t.”

They said no more, and a few minutes later Dean walked in. It was right before the beginning of Zachariah’s lecture. Thankfully, Zachariah's lecture passed peacefully and Lucifer did not ask to go to the bathroom or say anything at all. After the lesson Castiel hung by the doorway with Dean to let the others get ahead of them. Dean always went last so that he could take all the leftovers, an action that Castiel had successfully argued to himself to not be stealing.

“Is that your violin?” Dean asked first thing after Zachariah announced that it was time to break for lunch. Dean had been glancing down the the violin case all through the lecture, and with his glances he’d been more awake and restless than usual. 

“It is,” Cas smiled. “You said you wanted to hear me play something last time.”

“Oh, I definitely do,” Dean said. “What’re you gonna play?”

They chatted all the way down the hall and while waiting in line. Though Cas realized it must be taking longer to get to lunch, now that he’s waiting at the back of the line with Dean, he always felt like the time passed more quickly. Soon they were heading out, to their usual picnic spot on the lawn.

“Alright,” Dean said after they sat down. “I’ve been kept in suspense long enough. You gotta play something for me now.”

“Before lunch?” Cas asked. “And before Sam arrives? No, you can wait a bit longer.”

“Oh, come on,” Dean nudged him, “you can replay it for Sam when he gets here, and he’ll get here soon.”

“I still need to eat, Dean,” Cas said. He gestured to his food, pizza today. “It’s something we all need to do to survive.”

“Oh, alright,” Dean said. “I guess because you’re gonna starve to death in the next five minutes unless you eat, it’s fine.” Then he gave a dramatic sigh.

Cas gave him a look, tilting his head a bit and raising his eyebrows at Dean, before taking a rather large bite of his pizza. He then chewed slowly and Dean chuckled a bit.

“What?” Cas asked after swallowing. 

“You just,” Dean started, shaking his head a bit and smiling, “you manage to look so dignified. You’re eating this greasy-assed pizza sitting cross legged on the ground and you still look so pretentious.”

“I am not,” Cas said, “pretentious.”

“I mean, not really,” Dean agreed, “but you do look it. Like I bet you could be a butler.”

Luckily Sam’s arrival saved Castiel from having to ask why, exactly, he could be a butler. Sam was very excited about the pizza.

“Dude, we should totally get pizza more often,” Sam said as chowed down on a piece of the pepperoni pizza Dean had grabbed.

“Dude, we eat pizza and pizza leftovers several nights a week,” Dean said, “we definitely do not need to get pizza more often. I do not want pizza to be ruined for me ‘cause we have it every fucking day.”

“Language,” Castiel said automatically. He’d gotten to the bone of his pizza, which he was about halfway through. Dean completely disregarded the rebuke, but Castiel speaking had reminded him of the expected violin concert.

“You know what we need, that’s not pizza?” Dean asked.

“Nothing,” Sam said.

“Shut up,” Dean replied. “We need music. Violin music. From Cas.”

“Woah, wait,” Sam’s eyes went wide with excitement and he sat up straight for a moment. “Cas brought a violin!?”

“I said I would,” Cas said.

“You’re gonna play it?” Sam asked.

“Nah, he just bought it because he felt like it,” Dean said. “Of course he’s gonna play something for us!” 

Sam punched Dean in response to this, muttering, “Jerk.”

Castiel finished off the last of his pizza slice as Dean retaliated with his own shoulder punch and a “Bitch.”

“I’m going to have to wipe off my hands first,” Cas said, pulling some sanitizing wipes from his violin case.

“You carry those little towels things around with you?” Dean asked. “Seriously?”

“Be quiet,” Cas said as he readied his violin and bow. He had a few pieces memorized, and parts of other pieces memorized- not all of this was on purpose. Some favorites he practiced so much that he could practically do parts of them while asleep. Cas decided what to play as he warmed up, thinking of whatever music had been playing in his head most recently. The tones of his warm up filled the air, pure and clear. 

Dean and Sam sat expectantly, watching him. The feel of their eyes on him made Castiel feel slightly self-conscious, but he knew that would fade as he continued to play. If he played well enough everything would.

Castiel decided on a familiar Rachmaninoff tune adapted to solo violin; it was the first truly difficult piece he’d ever played. He didn’t know all of it, but it was quite a long piece. He was sure Dean didn’t want to hear the entire piece, Cas knew enough. He hummed the first couple of notes and then jumped right into it. The romance of the tune tugged at Castiel’s heart every time he played it, and it didn’t take long for the music to fill his head. It didn’t matter if he left his eyes open or shut, if their picnic started smelling like sewage instead of pizza- sometimes Castiel didn’t evening realize when his siblings nudged him to get his attention. 

What mattered was the feel of the violin, the movement of his hands, the resonance of the sound in his ears, the way the music filled his head and chest. 

Castiel played for a bit longer than he intended to, which was not unusual for him. It was too easy to let go of everything but the vibrations of the air. He finally found a good note to end that happened right about where his memory of the piece began to fade. 

He lowered his violin slowly, feeling  his self-consciousness come back as the music fades. The air was silent enough for him to nearly hear his own heartbeat. He looked nervously toward Sam and Dean. They both were staring with wide eyes. Sam had an open mouthed smile. Dean’s mouth was also open slightly, and the astonishment in his eyes matched if not exceeded Sam’s, but there was something else to Dean’s expression, something in the curve of his mouth and the green of his eyes. Something Cas didn’t recognize, something about it that spiked his heartbeat. Cas looked away from Dean’s face quickly.

“Awesome!” Sam said after a couple of moments. He grinned at Cas with all the enthusiasm a kid could muster. “Fucking awesome Cas!”

Cas glanced up at them with a small smile. Dean was slowly recovering the use of his own face.

“Yeah, that was-,” Dean started and then broke off. “That was something, Cas. Something else. It was, uh, great. Totally.”

“You really think so?” Cas looked up completely as he asked. He’d always gotten compliments from family and from strangers, but these were the first real friends he played for. It gave him a rush of warmth to think they’d truly enjoyed his music. 

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Totally. Entirely. Fucking great. Perfect.”

“Mmm-hum,” Sam nodded as he took another big bite of his pizza.

Cas ended up playing a couple more tunes for them, as well as attempting to play by ear a pop song Sam hummed for him. Castiel happened to have perfect pitch, but Sam Winchester did not, and in the end it really didn’t work. Dean thought it was hilarious, though. 

At the end of lunch, when Gabriel came to kick Cas and tell him it was time for him to go, Dean was utterly disappointed. Of course, Cas leaving usually left a pang in his chest, but this time the feeling was particularly pronounced.

“Hey, uh, maybe you could come around with your music stuff or bring your violin here again or something?” Dean asked. “It was cool hearing you play.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas replied. He paused getting up to leave so that he could look at Dean while he said it.

“Looks like you finally got someone to tolerate your playing, little bro,” Gabriel said as he dragged Cas off.

“That was fun,” Sam said as he grabbed yet another slice of pizza.

“Yeah,” Dean agreed, staring after Cas and Gabriel as they walked away. Dean shook himself a bit. He tried to get the picture of Cas’s face as he played out of his head. It was just so... relaxed. Clear. Open. Dean’s hand twitched with how much he had wanted to just reach out and touch his face, even now. Just the memory of how vulnerable Cas looked made Dean’s chest constrict. Dean closed his eyes and rubbed his face with one hand. Why was this sticking in his head? 

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I’m cool,” Dean said. “Just shaking off the pizza.”

The image of Cas playing, eyes closed and expression far away, stayed in Dean’s head. Years later the image would still come to sometimes Dean, when he lay in bed just before falling asleep or when his eyes drifted halt shut as he couldn’t quite bring himself to pay attention in lecture.

* * *

 

##  Now

The first house meeting of Castiel’s little theme community is the evening of the first day of classes. Castiel had managed to sort himself out from his encounter with Dean. He’d visited the college’s music studio and found his student locker. A couple hours between his cello and violin had calmed him down completely. 

It was Uriel who had told him about the meeting, scheduled for this night in the shared living area of their community’s large suite. Castiel doesn’t really want to attend, but the meetings are mandatory. Anyway, two of cousins are also in this living community. Cas felt certain his parents would hear if he were to do anything obviously rebellious- and his parents definitely considered missing meetings to be “obviously rebellious”. Other things that his parents may consider obviously rebellious would include skipping any classes, involving himself with any political organizations on campus without his parents’ permission, involving himself with any organization on campus without his parents’ permission, and going to the campus chapel. (The campus chapel situation happened to be very political; not only did the chapel have a diversity policy his parents disagreed with, there was also quite a bit of local leadership politics involving the chapel that did not go the way his parents wanted it to.)

Castiel makes sure he’s looking as put together as he could look before heading down. This is partially a force of habit, as there has been very little opportunity in Cas’s life to dress down. Castiel owns only two t-shirts and one pair of jeans- the two shirts being plain white undershirts, of course. Novaks always looked their best, his mother would say. And if his mother said something then it was certain to become, at least partially, reality. What Naomi Novak wanted, she got. 

Castiel finishes preparing early, and is left with a few minutes before he has to head down to the shared living area. He takes a few breaths in and out. This type of high pressure social situation is familiar to him, and it really is a high pressure social situation here. There seems to Castiel to be only one network of rich ultra-Christians, and every student in this dorm is a fledgling member. This is supposed to be the opportunity to network, make connections, and evaluate each other. Castiel has been dragged into enough networking events disguised as social to recognize and know how to deal with these things, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. In fact, he tries to avoid all of them as much as possible, but this is unavoidable. Castiel heads down.

Four men (it was an all male dorm) were already there when Castiel arrives. There is Castiel’s cousin, Uriel, and two who Castiel knows are brothers, and family friends: Alastair and Azazel. The other man Castiel doesn’t know. Two more have yet to arrive. 

“Castiel!” Uriel gestures over to Cas as soon as he enters the room. “Come sit over here, cousin.”

Castiel slowly walks over and sits next to Uriel on one of the couches around a large coffee table in the center of the room. 

“Oh, cousin, it’s so nice to see you,” Uriel says as soon as Castiel sits down. Castiel actually got along fairly well with Uriel- Uriel always seemed to find Castiel’s limited speech in social situations to be helpful. It allowed Uriel’s own opinions to flow more freely. “Your mother emailed me to let me know you’d be staying here. How are you? What are you majoring in, again?”

“Music,” Castiel replies, “and theology. It’s a double major.”

“I remember how you would play at all your mother’s events,” Uriel says. Naomi had made Castiel play at these events as a way to impress her guests with how accomplished her children were. “But are you really going to leave Michael to manage the business on his own?”

“I would be of little help to him,” Castiel admits. He wants to get off this topic of conversation. “What are you majoring in?”

“Economics,” Uriel says, “with a minor in theology. Say, Castiel, have you met our roommates yet?”

“Only Alastair and Azazel,” Castiel says. “I haven’t had the chance to meet anyone else.”

“I’m glad you’ve met them, at least,” Uriel says, “their father is an important business partner with your family’s company, after all. Of course they are very well brought up, but they’re just a riot as well. Their father is sending some wine in next week, and it should be a fun time. Oh, of course, your mother probably doesn’t want you drinking. Oh well. Here, it looks like Cain’s just come in. I’ll introduce you to him and Gordon.” He calls out to Cain and Gordon, who are hanging out by the door. “Hey! Cain! Gordon! You met Castiel Novak?”

Cain and Gordon look over immediately.

“Novak?” Gordon asks as they walk over. “Novak Industies Novak?”

Castiel nods. Both of them smile. Castiel feels certain that this surprised is feigned. Both Cain and Gordon have the calculating looks of those who had known there were connections to be made this evening. Well, if they want business connections, Castiel is not the place to get them. 

“You brother is a good man,” Cain says. He holds out his hand, as does Gordon. “I’m planning to do an internship at Novak Industries this summer, myself. Michael is one talented, moral businessman.”

“And there aren’t many who’re both,” Gordon adds as Castiel shakes both their hands. “I’m planning to be a lawyer after graduation, work for corporations and people to bring God back into this country.”

“Definitely,” Azazel says, as he and Alastair drift over to the conversation. “Do you know that there is an atheist group on campus? A group of people who loudly proclaim their disbelief in God?”

“A Muslim group, too,” Gordon says. “Not to mention the actual  _ school-sponsored  _ homosexuals.”

It’s been long enough for Castiel not to react to the word “homosexual” when his family and their contacts say it like that. His own guilt, shame and anger may bubble up in a way that seems utterly obvious to him, but there’s no reason for anyone here to know his past.  

“That is a shame,” Uriel says. “What happened to decency?”

“Speaking of decency, it’s ten past seven,” Alastair cuts in. Castiel had forgotten how much he hates Alastair’s voice. It somehow seems like he’s hissing and whining at the same time, even when his voice is at a normal volume.  “Where  _ is  _ Balthazar?”

“Out being a drunkard somewhere,” Uriel rolls his eyes, “probably. He’s mostly here for us to keep an eye on him.”

“That’s hard for us to do without him actually being here,” Cain says.

As if on cue, a tall and brightly dressed man struts in. He stops when he sees all of them, and speaks.

“Oh, stop looking as though someone died,” he, Balthazar, Cas presumes, says in a British accent. “I’m only a few minutes late. I thought a couple of you brought wine?”

“A couple of us arrived here on time,” Alastair observes. “In fact, everyone but you arrived here on time.”

“Look, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Balthazar says. He comes over and takes a seat across from Uriel and Castiel. “All ready for the meeting and everything.”

They all take seats, but not without a few snide remarks about Balthazar. Castiel feels sure, given the volume of these remarks, that Balthazar heard them. He just kept the same pleasant expression on his face as if he hadn’t. Balthazar, Castiel had to admit, had guts. 

Most of the meeting is basic. Azazel reads off a list of rules, but always mentioned which ones they were allowed to break. Uriel mentions that they would have a group prayer every evening and dinner together on Saturday. He understood everyone would be busy, but no one is allowed to miss more than two a week. Balthazar manages to mostly stay silent, though Castiel can tell from his expression that he’s dying to make remarks.

“Well, if that’s it,” Balthazar says after Uriel finished with his announcement, “I really should-”

“There’s one more thing,” Azazel interrupts. “We need to decide our service to the campus this year. Don’t you know what this living community is about, Balthazar?”

“Sure,” Balthazar says, “business connections and keeping an eye on us young hooligans.” Cas nearly snorts at that, but years of training in hiding his emotions comes into play and he manages to make it a cough. A very loud, strained cough.

“Cousin, are you alright?” Uriel asks. Castiel looks up to see, with relief, that most of them were looking at him with concern. Some of them do seem a bit surprised, but he would be too at that cough. It was loud. Only Balthazar looks at him with suspicion. Suspicion, and maybe a slight bit of calculation. 

Castiel doesn’t look at him as he answers. “Yes, I’m fine.” He clears his throat. “My throat is a bit dry.”

“Good,” Uriel says, still looking slightly taken aback. “I suppose.”

“ _ Anyway, _ ” Azazel says, “this community always does something for the campus each year. Something to make the campus better, more godly. We’re here to do good.”

“This campus certainly needs it,” Alastair puts in.

“Yes,” Balthazar adds, “I did get the impression that this campus is far too much fun for any of you.”

Everyone ignores him. Castiel is careful to not let any agreement or amusement at his comments show. Balthazar’s earlier joke had simply taken him by surprise- if Cas could keep his face clear of feelings only seconds after seeing Dean then Balthazar certainly couldn’t find him out.

“Earlier years we’ve campaigned against the University using our money to pay for the consequence free sin of others-”  _ Language for birth control,  _ Castiel thinks “-done hunger drives, helped renovate nearby churches, and help advocate for prayer on campus and general religious liberty, to name a few things,” Uriel says. It had taken Castiel years to realize that when people outside his family and their social circle said religious liberty they did not mean it the way Uriel meant it right then. “What part of the good fight can we help with this year?”

“Well, have we done anything about the homosexuals yet?” Alastair suggests. Cas’s heart starts sinking at the word “homosexual”. This could not be going anywhere good. Balthazar rolls his eyes.

“What the hell do you even this you can do about them?” Balthazar asks. “I seriously doubt they care much what you think of them.”

“No, but the university might,” Cain says, “if we can get them to listen.”

“Really, we can’t control them,” Uriel says, “but the fact that university money- money from our tuition- is going to support their ungodly acts, well. That is a slap in the face to our religious freedom.”

Castiel suppresses a sigh, either of exhaustion or frustration. He’s tried to be good, he really has. And part of him being good is him keeping away from all discussions or thoughts about homosexuals and those with homosexual tendencies. There’s nothing good down that road, only him being a sinner, a hypocrite, or both. But Castiel has no idea what he’d say to stop this. 

“I think we need to make more concrete plans,” Uriel continues, “but does anyone disagree that this would be a good focus, for our charitable project this year?”

“I don’t think any of us could disagree,” Alastair says. When Alastair blinks after his statement, Castiel can’t help but imagine him as a snake. This hissing threat of his words are always snake-like.

Balthazar sighs loudly, and he crosses his arms.

“Well,  _ you  _ can do whatever you like,” Balthazar says as he stands up, “but you people appear to have me mistaken for someone else. I didn’t even want to be here in the first place.”

Balthazar then walks out in what can only be described as a huff. The meeting lasts only a little bit after Balthazar’s walk-out, but Castiel still envies how Balthazar got to leave early. He wonders if Balthazar has any repercussions from his family to worry about; if he’s just ignoring them or if Balthazar thinks his own parents have already done their worst to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing funky with the timeline here. Church lessons continue, Cas and Dean friendship continue, Dean's feelings continue. In the "Now" timeline Cas despairs quietly in the inside. He's fucked. This "Now" chapter is setting up for things to come.
> 
> Ah, I love them so much.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas dealt with his hellish family life.
> 
> Now Dean talks about a past relationship during a drinking game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers. I love every single comment, subscription, bookmark, and kudos I get, feel free to rec this fic to any of your Destiel fic-loving friends!
> 
> Also, I recently made a spotify account (I know, I'm so behind). I didn't even need to think about what kind of playlist I wanted to make, because I knew I wanted to make a playlist for this fic. It's obviously gonna be skewed toward my own music taste, but if you want to know what kind of songs remind me of this fic and have fic-feels for me, please check it out!
> 
> It's ["Music, Memories, and Other Subjective Things" by fieldsofgarlicforever](https://open.spotify.com/user/fieldsofgarlicforever/playlist/6FO6cnQDmyEGw79UOsr8pz).

##  Then

Lucifer’s careful rule-minding had slipped for the third time since it had started. Castiel wonders why he bothers trying to mind the rules at all. Lucifer had slipped from his place in competition with his twin, Michael, as the perfect child years ago, and had been on a downward spiral ever since. His status in this house was long gone.  _ Why bother trying when it’s all already lost? _ Castiel wonders. He never real knew Lucifer or Michael, though, so it was unlikely he’d get a chance to understand. 

This was the third time this summer that Lucifer had come home after their nine o’clock curfew, this time missing dinner. Castiel had been practicing the piano in the social hall, near the front entrance, when Lucifer came in. Michael was doing some sort of paperwork on a nearby desk. Michael always worked in his own office, ever since mother had given it to him a year ago, so Castiel suspected he was really waiting for Lucifer to come back.

Lucifer did not disappoint. He came home at ten, the screech of his car easily audible through in their room. Castiel continued to play, pretending he hadn’t heard it. He didn’t even notice Michael get up to go stand by the door for a few moments.

Lucifer slammed the door open, but shut it carefully. Michael started speaking to him immediately. Castiel jumped at the slam, but continued to play. If he stopped they’d be more likely to notice him.

“Where were you for dinner?” Michael asked.  

“Who are you, Mom?” Lucifer’s words were slightly slurred and spoken a bit too loudly. He might have been drunk.

“Are you drunk?” Michael demanded. 

“What’s it to you?” Lucifer asked. “Gonna go tell Mom?”

“Of course I’ll have to speak to mother, Lucifer,” Michael said. Then, in a quieter tone, added, “Why are you doing this?”

“Why am I doing what, brother?” Lucifer asked. “Staying out? Missing Dinner? Well, maybe the missing dinner thing’s to be more like Dad, but mostly I do it ‘cause it’s fun. Doubt you’d ever heard of that, though. Maybe college will loosen you up a bit. Guess I’ll never know.”

“Is that what this is about?” Michael asked. “Don’t be a fool. This military academy is another chance for you, a  _ last  _ chance for you. You shouldn’t ruin it through your own bitter rebellion, even if you are jealous of me-”

“Jealous?” Castiel could hear the spit in Lucifer’s voice. Castiel changed tunes to something louder, more complicated, more distracting, anything to stop him from hearing this conversation. “You think I’m jealous? I’m not fucking jealous Michael, god, I’m fucking relieved- I’m the family disappointment, in the perfect position. Not quite written out but free of all that goddamn pressure.”

“Don’t say that,” Michael commanded. His voice dropped low and angry on those words.

“Fucking?” Lucifer asked. “Goddamn? Or don’t say that this pressure’s gonna break you, brother?” He laughed, and then stopped, suddenly.

“Lucifer.” An even voice spoke from the next room. Castiel tried to breath evenly. Their mother had come. “You’re drunk. After all that money we spent on rehab, Lucifer, you’re drunk.”

“Guess it was money wasted,” Lucifer said. 

“Just like all the money I spend on you,” their mother said. “God meant you as a gift, Lucifer, but you’ve squandered all of that. Look at you, you’re an absolute wreck. You know the punishment for breaking curfew.”

She paused. Neither Lucifer or Michael said anything.

“Hand me your car keys and cell phone, and go back outside,” Naomi repeated. 

“Ma’am,” Lucifer said. There was the sound of movement behind Castiel.

“Thank the Lord that you’re not like that, Michael,” Naomi said as Lucifer opened the door. He closed it after himself with a bit more force than necessary “I am glad your father and I have one child to inherit control of the company.”

“Thank you, mother,” Michael said.

“I think I might have your father write Lucifer out of the Will, after this,” Naomi commented conversationally. “I wouldn’t tell him that, of course, there’s no reason to give him another reason to be self-righteous when he rebels. As though being disrespectful to your parents could be righteous in any sense.”

A pause. “If you feel the need to, mother, of course,” Michael said.

“Oh, you are just the perfect child, Michael. Or I could always have him sleep outside a few more nights,” Naomi continued, “though that doesn’t really seem to have any effect anymore, does it? I’ll have to discuss this with your father tomorrow.”

The timer on the piano finally went off. Castiel started gathering his papers immediately, but unfortunately not quickly enough. 

“Oh, Castiel,” Castiel heard his mother say. He looked back as she walked over. “Are you leaving right after your hour of practice? Usually you practice until bedtime. You know, your talent is one thing, but diligence and hard work are what will make you a decent musicien. I can usually count on you for such diligence. It nearly makes up for how little you talk.”

Castiel nodded in response to this. He manages to get out a “Ma’am.”

Castiel keeps gathering up his music, and stands up. Thankfully Naomi turned to Michael again as he leaves the room, and says no more to him. He headed away, up to his bedroom. 

In his room he immediately picked up his violin. Gabriel always complained when he the violin practiced at night, but Castiel needed to play. His hands were shaking as he opened the case. He tried taking a few deep breaths, but gets only shallow ones. His mother had threatened to disinherit all of them at least once- Gabriel after she learned of one of his pranks, Anneal when she tried to buy clothing that she didn’t like or when she occasionally defended liberals, Castiel when he finds himself unable to speak to her sometimes, even Michael. But she threatened to disinherit Lucifer most. A couple of times she claimed she already had, and it’s impossible to tell.  _ God gives you so much, we give you so much,  _ she’s said,  _ why do you waste it like this? What’s wrong with you? _

Castiel played. He didn’t even bother getting up off the floor, he just played and played. He played until he forgot what happened tonight, until he’d forgotten everything but the music.

That what was best. Forgetting. No one would mention this tomorrow, the only sign it had happened would be the silence. Maybe that was really why it was such a problem that Lucifer drank and got high- when he was like that, sometimes he would say things. He would mention things. Maybe that was the real threat behind Lucifer’s addiction. 

Eventually Michael came by and opened the door to Castiel’s room. Castiel stopped playing at the sound of it. He continued to sit on the floor, facing away from the door and his brother. 

“It’s 10:30, Castiel,” Michael announced. “Time for sleep.”

Castiel nodded without turning around, and Michael closed the door. Castiel continued to sit for a few more seconds. He knew he’d have to get up, he knew he should go to bed. He knew in a few minutes Naomi would come around and check that they were all in bed. He just couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes and stand up. He just needed some time. 

Eventually Castiel forced himself to put away his violin and get up. He shared a bathroom with Gabriel, and after he changed into his pajamas and went to it Gabriel was already there, brushing his teeth.

“What’s up?” Gabriel asked. Sort of asked. The toothpaste muffled his voice.

Castiel shook his head. Gabriel spit into the sink, and when he asked his next question his voice was clear and concerned.

“Lucifer come back?” Gabriel asked.

Castiel nodded. Gabriel hesitated.

“That’s good,” Gabriel said. He tried for a positive expression. “Better than him not coming back, right?”

Castiel didn’t answer.

“Well,” Gabriel said. He patted Castiel's on the back. “Hang in there, little bro. We’ll get outta here.”

Castiel looked at him and tried to smile. It didn’t really work.

“Least it’s a warm night tonight,” Gabriel remarked as he left. Castiel didn’t say anything.

Sitting in the dark, Castiel couldn’t sleep. He didn’t want to think of the events of that night, though. At least it was Wednesday tomorrow. He would see Dean. Castiel felt a bit of hope at that.

Castiel thought about Dean for a bit. It seemed like he and Sam actually lived in that motel across the street from the church, he’d seen Sam coming from over there. Castiel hadn’t even known that people could live in motels. He wondered how Sam and Dean were doing that night. Were they still awake? Possibly. Dean seemed like the type of person who would stay up late. 

Castiel tried to imagine what it would be like, to stay up late with Dean and Sam. Sometimes for holidays he and his siblings were allowed to stay up until midnight. On those nights they’d watch movies. A long time ago it was all of them, but Michael and Lucifer had stopped watching the movies with them more than six years ago. Now it was just him, Annael, and Gabriel. Anneal and Gabriel would argue endlessly about which movie to watch, and usually Annael would win. She had a stubborn streak in her that Gabriel couldn’t quite match. 

Staying up with Dean and Sam would probably be like that, be like staying up with Annael and Gabriel, but also completely different. Dean would swear, and make jokes almost as much as Gabriel. Sam and Dean would bicker, and maybe even play fight. They wouldn’t even have to have Naomi approve the movie. It would be different from watching movies with Cas’s siblings in a different way to, a more fundamental way that Cas couldn’t quite name. Maybe, because they were friends, Dean and Cas could sit next to each other. Maybe they could even sit so that they were touching. 

The thought of a movie night with his two friends made Castiel smile as he fell asleep. 

* * *

 

##  Now

“Take a shot if you know how to party!” Andrew shouts. Their game of drunk “Never Have I Ever” has quickly evolved into “Take a shot if...” It’s like “Never Have I Ever”, except that you’re not required to say something you haven’t done, it’s not limited to experiences, and they’re not keeping track- except through how drunk they all are.

Everyone laughs and whoops at that, and they pass around the vodka and whisky as everyone takes a shot. There’s seven of them sitting there; Dean, Andrew, Benny, Victor, Pamela, Ruby, and Tessa. Drunk enough to be buzzed and fun, not too drunk for any of them yet, though Victor is getting there fast. Dean would never guess from looking at the guy how little liquor he could hold. 

They’re sitting on the living room floor in the middle of a house party, kitchen to one side and a dining room being used as a dance floor on the other. People keep wandering in and out of the game, and since this has started everyone's been getting consistently drunker. The floor’s a bit sticky, the only lighting comes from the cheap kitchen lights and the colorful strobe lights from the dance floor, but that’s all right. The group is framed by a couch on one side and a coffee table covered in cheese puffs and alcohol on the other side. There’s a chair for one person in the corner, but it’s tipped over. Every so often someone asks them why they’re not sitting on the couch, and they have to both remember and explain how someone is already passed out on there. The party’s starting to wind down, people have already started leaving, but they still probably have a few hours before getting kicked out. It’s the middle-end of the night, perfect for crashing on the floor and talking to each other. 

Ruby snorts. “If you fuckers knew how to party you’d be on the dance floor right now!” she yells. They all have to shout a bit to be heard over the music, even a room over. 

“Why aren’t you on the dance floor, then?” Victor asks. He’s sitting to the side of Dean, between Dean and Andrew, and Dean is liking him more and more as the night goes on. He’s a no-bullshit kinda guy, Victor is. Lives down the hall in Dean’s dorm, too, which is pretty awesome. 

“Why aren’t you coming up with the next shot-reasons?” Ruby retorts. Shit like that sounds pretty clever when you’re drunk. Andrew whoops. 

“It’s because you’re complaining too much,” Victor says. “Can’t talk while you're talking. If you’d been quiet, you’d have already heard my ‘take a shot if’.”

“So what is it, brother?” Benny aks from the other side of Dean. 

“I don’t know!” Victor says. “Take a shot if you- if you’ve been in a long term relationship!” 

Pamela, Dean, and Benny take a shot. 

“Seriously?” Benny asks. “Only us three?”

“Maybe there’d been more if it wasn’t such a lame question,” Ruby mutters, loudly. 

“It’s not lame,” Victor defends. “Relationships are important, and shit. Hell of a lot more interesting than liking alcohol.”

“Alcohol is great, though,” Andrew says. 

“Yeah, but we all know we like alcohol, Andrew,” Dean says. “‘S not interesting like Victah- Victor’s question. Bet you lot didn’t know I had a long term relationship, casual man that I am.”

“You had like, one one night stand, Dean,” Pamela says. “Let it go.”

“Excuse me, I had two one night stands,” Dean corrects. “In the first two weeks of classes. I am a total player- like, a consensual, respectful player.” Dean adds the last bit after the hazy recollection of some kind of feminist lecture from Pamela earlier that night. 

“Glad at least you got some of that,” Pamala says. “I’m gonna have to wait a bit longer to see exactly how respectful and sexy you are to me before I sleep with you.”

“Who says I wanna sleep with you?” Dean asks. 

Pamala just smirks at him. She sits back a bit and looks him up and down, an action somewhere between checking him out and looking right through him.

“Okay, fine, I wanna sleep with you,” Dean sighs. 

“You know, you and Pamela flirting doesn’t really answer the questions,” Andrew says. 

“Who’d you go out with, Dean?” Benny asks. “Go out with in the long go out with sense?” 

“‘Long go out with sense’?” Ruby repeats sarcastically, and before she can say more Dean launches into an answer. 

“High School, junior year starting,” Dean says. “Her name’s-was- is Lisa. First- oh, and only, in the love sense.” First and only is a lie in any sense, but at this point it almost feels like the truth. The painful edges of the lie have been worn down with use. 

“If that’s how we’re going with it,” Benny says. “Highschool, sophmore year. First and only so far in all those senses.”

“I like it,” Pamela says. “Style’s clear, concise, and totally robs this lot of drama. Dude. Highschool. First in sex, only in nothing.”

“Oh come on, you gotta give us some deets!” Andrew implores. 

“I ain’t giving any ‘deets’,” Benny says. “Dean can,” He adds quickly.

Dean laughs, “You asshat, throwing me under the bus!” He doesn’t mind, though. Lisa’s relationship is the safe one to talk about. 

That’s always been the problem, really. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It doesn't particularly matter the exact timeline of these scenes. It happens around the same time as the other "Then" scenes have happened. 
> 
> In case anyone can't access the spotify playlist for any reason, the songs are:
> 
> "Bad Blood" by Bastille   
> "Light A Roman Candle With Me" by fun.  
> "House of Memories" by Panic! at the Disco  
> "Come Under The Covers" by Walk The Moon  
> "Stars" by fun.   
> "The Calendar" by Panic! at the Disco  
> "Down In The Dumps" by Walk The Moon  
> "The End of All Things" by Panic! at the Disco  
> "Out On The Town" by fun.  
> "Favorite Record" by Fall Out Boy  
> "Geronimo" by Sheppard  
> "Hot Air Balloon" by Owl City  
> "I Stand Corrected" by Vampire Weekend  
> "It Gets Better" by fun.  
> "The Kids Aren't Alright" by Fall Out Boy  
> "The Kids From Yesterday" by My Chemical Romance  
> "Say Something" by A Great Big World, Christina Arguilera  
> "Sidekick" by Walk The Moon  
> "Sound of Your Heart" by Shawn Hook   
> "Summertime" by My Chemical Romance  
> "Vanilla Twilight" by Owl City  
> "We Are The Kids" by Walk The Moon  
> "Why Am I the One" by fun.  
> "Wild Things" by Alessia Cara  
> "You Make My Dreams" by Daryl Hall and John Oates   
> "You've Got The Love" by Florence + The Machine  
> "Young Volcanoes" by Fall Out Boy  
> "YOUTH" by Troye Sivan  
> "Portugal" by Walk The Moon
> 
> If you want to suggest other songs or know why I choose certain songs, please feel free to do so in the comments. Often I choose songs for how they felt to me, or because they matched a certain part of the fic.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean reacted to a bible studies lesson that went badly.
> 
> Now Castiel gets a new friend in one of his classes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just your most recent update. 
> 
> In case you missed it last time, I made [a spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/fieldsofgarlicforever/playlist/6FO6cnQDmyEGw79UOsr8pz). The playlist is based on the fic, the fic is not based on the spotify.

## Then

Dean ran in and slammed the door behind him. The noise of the door was loud but quickly, overpowered by the silence of the room. The motel room was empty right now, Sam was away at some camp sponsored by the library. As Dean walked over to his bed the silence of the room seemed like a physical part of the air: it pulled at his limbs and made it harder to move. It seemed to take him awhile to walk over to the bed. Dean even sat down slowly, discovering soreness in his muscles that had no right or reason to be there.

Dean laid back on his bed and closed his eyes. _Fuck._

Today had been the shittiest day since he met Cas. It was Wednesday, the Bible study shit was today. Usually that made it the best day of the week. Bible study Wednesday meant free food and Cas, what could be better than that? Only now that was gone.

Dean rolled over on his side. On top of all the injustice of today, Father Zachariah’s accusation and blame, the disregard of just about everyone else there, on top of all of that, Dean had nearly cried in front of Cas.

Dean curled up on his side and felt the tears he’d been holding in leak their way out even through his pressed shut eyes. He tried to take in a breath and it came out as a sob. Thank god Sam wasn’t here to see him like this. Thank god _his father_ wasn’t here to see him like this. Dean curled up further as more tears found their way out.

It wasn’t losing Cas- well, it wasn’t just losing Cas. It was the humiliation. A crime he hadn’t committed. An accusation he had no defense against. A sentence regardless of innocence. The high and mighty Zachariah, each word out of his mouth hinting at the fact that this wasn’t Dean’s true crime. No, Dean’s true crime was attending those meetings at all, knowing fully what and who he was.

It wasn’t the first assumption about Dean from an authority figure, and it wasn’t the first nor last to get him into trouble. It would’ve been bearable had it not been for Cas. Thank god Father Zachariah at least pulled Dean aside separately. Everyone there seemed to know what was going on anyways, what had to be going on when a kid like Dean got pulled aside. The only one not to put two and two together was Cas, but that didn’t really matter.

Dean cried. He started out crying about what had just happened, but somehow all the tears he’d been holding in since his father left again decided that this was their opportunity. He just thought about everything that happened, about how empty and lonely the room was, and cried until he felt empty.

Then he fell asleep. It wasn’t the most unexpected thing, Dean’s sleep schedule had already been on languid summer time.

When Dean opened his eyes again it was dark outside. He glanced at the alarm clock and wasn’t sure whether to laugh or to groan. He wasn’t about to get any more sleep tonight, he just napped for nearly four hours. Dean’s summer sleep schedules got worse and worse each year- without school there was no structure in his life and without structure time went weird. There wasn’t much of a difference between 3 Am and 3 PM besides the fact that less shops were open that late, or rather, that early.

When Dean sat up and looked around he discovered that he’d found one of those unreal moments that meaningless time offered. The room was illuminated by a yellow light over in the kitchenette. It’s light left most of the room as dark indents, and what it did illuminate was in a different color than usual. The humidity of the summer night had crept into the room, the AC must have broken down again, and the layer of thickness it added to the air made even that seem off. Even the neighbors were oddly silent, giving Dean that he was alone in this pocket of reality.

He could turn on TV and break the silence, but he didn’t really mind it. He sort of liked how it made everything recent seem detached. He scoot himself over to the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands.

For the longest time Dean hadn’t understood why his father drank, and hated when his father drank. Even when he wasn’t shouting or crying, leaving Dean and Sam to try and be as small as possible, even when John was a happy drunk, Dean hated it. Hated how he couldn’t hold a conversation with his father- anytime he tried to talk about something, anything John would just incoherently connect it to something else. John would repeat the same things over and over, talk too loud, and never be able to tell when Dean was upset. Not to mention that, no matter the emotion drunk-John is centering on, the night always ended the same: sick John. Sick John with Dean taking care of him.

So Dean has always looked at alcohol with nothing but resentment, and never understood what his father or anyone else got from it. But, in some small part of him, he’d wanted to understand. He’d wondered about what the stuff must to, to make his father break promises not to go back to it so many times. What it must do to make people drink it despite the hangover.

And, the last school day of this year, he’d given in to that wondering. Sam was at a sleepover party celebrating the end of the year with some of his friends. Dean would never ask him not to go- Dad had told them they’d be leaving the next week, and Dean knew for Sam that party was a goodbye. Dad had been away that day, too.

It had been the last day of Middle School and there’d been this stupid graduation ceremony. Dean hadn’t thought much of it, his grades had been good but it’s not like he graduated high school or anything. He’d only mentioned it in passing to John, so John didn’t even know to show up, it wasn’t his fault.

It’d only been standing up there on stage, watching everyone’s parents cheer that it had started to bother him. Each kid was announced separately to come up and grab a little certificate. Each time a kid was announced there’d be a light, polite cheer from everyone. Some kids would get more or less of that cheer. What was really noticeable was the cheer from each family. The family was always louder than the background cheer, whoops and claps that stood out from the noise.

Dean wasn’t the only kid who didn’t have those specific family cheers to stand against the noise. He was one of three. One was a girl who went up like a mouse, sunken into herself and not saying anything, and another was a girl who went through the motions like she didn’t even notice. Dean went up glaring. Every whoop from a proud family, a proud mother and father, had turned to steam in his ears. By the time he got up there Dean barely resisted the impulse to flip off the principal when she congratulated him. When the principal of the local high school came up and announced how happy she would be to see them all next year Dean snorted.

That evening, when he’d come home alone, Dean decided to discover exactly what it is about alcohol that adults liked so damn much. John always kept some in the rooms where they stayed.

Right now Dean felt very tempted to continue his exploration into the effects of alcohol.

He closed his eyes and Cas’s confused face was behind them. _Dean? He asked. He reached out. Dean, is something wrong?_

Dean opened his eyes. He didn’t do anything wrong, but it’s not like they’d care about that. Maybe Cas wouldn’t even care about that. Cas was hanging out with him was fun and it always made Dean relax, allowing him to live in the moment in the way he rarely can, but still Cas was one of them. Cas was meant to be there, and like Father Zachariah said, Dean _wasn’t exactly the type for a good place like this._

 _Fuck him,_ Dean thought. Anyone with eyes could’ve seen who stole it, but god forbid Dean mention that. Oh no, didn’t Dean know they’d been through enough? Father Zachariah acted like Dean had personally tried to break the family apart when he mentioned someone with a name starting with Luce and ending with ifer might have been more likely to steal the bibles. Seriously, Dean lived in a motel. All of them had bibles. Though maybe no one in that family had been in a motel in their goddamn lives.

Even Cas.

Dean closed his eyes again. He pictured Cas’s face, and remembered the music. It wasn’t hard. Castiel had been as bright as sunlight, and the brightness left markings for when Dean closed his eyes. Dean opened his eyes and looked around their room.

He’d asked housekeeping to stop coming, to give him and Sam a little privacy. This meant that after a few weeks of living here this place was as much a pigsty as anyplace containing only two boys could be. This was the longest their Dad had left them on their own, so there wasn’t even his influence there to keep any semblance of organized. Even half-lit it was possible to tell that this place was dirty, cheap, and small. The walls were a greyish green that looked almost sickly in the yellow light. There was a single wall of tacky wallpaper, with exaggerated flower patterns. Some of the clothes were crusted onto the floor, and there were take out boxes beginning to rot in the sink. Dean found that right at this moment he didn’t really mind the disgusting state of the room, but he bet Cas would.

Could he really imagine Cas in a place like this? Castiel, named for an angel, in some fucking hovel like this motel room?

Dean needed a drink. Sam was gone, what possible reason was there for him not to have one? He got up and headed over to over to the room’s little kitchenette and dining table in the left hand corner. Every step he took made a short, heavy break in the quiet of the room.

Dean opened his father’s makeshift liquor cabinet carefully, with the reverence and trepidation usually reserved for those things either holy or lethally dangerous. John’s bottles sat inside, plump and golden. They’d all been opened, one was more than half gone.

Dean reached for one with shaky hand. The humiliations of the day kept going through his head, but this would make them go away. He pulled out a bottle into the light of the room and the liquid in it shined golden. Like gold. Or piss.

Dean knew how to open it, he’d gotten so many drinks before for his father. He did it quickly, hands trembling slightly with anticipation and the nervousness of a child doing something that he knew he shouldn’t. It was quiet enough that the little noises the glass of the bottle made sticking to his hands and the screw of the lid seemed loud.

He took a short, stinging ship and ended up coughing so violently he nearly spilled the bottle. He was bracing himself for another when there was a knock at the door. Dean jumped at the noise, even though it was a very polite, even apologetic knock. It hadn’t seemed possible to Dean that there was anyone out past the late-night world of the room. Even the idea that there were people in the rooms past the adjoining walls seemed unreal right then.

He fumbled shoving the bottle back in the cabinet before heading over to the door. As he walked over his heart raced. The only people he could think of being there at this time of night were his Dad, Sam, or the manager to kick them out. The person on the other side gave another little knock before Dean got over to the door and started unlocking it. The room came with a deadbolt that Dean always locked out of habit.

On the other side was Cas.

Cas stood awkwardly on the sidewalk, light from the side by the orange lighting of the parking lot. He looked upset, small, and out of place, in a way that somehow reminded Dean of a newborn kitten.

Cas was wearing a white t-shirt along with baggy black pants and sneakers. It was hard to see under the off-putting glow of the streetlight, but dirt and stains are visible on his clothing. Dean had never seen him wear anything but nice clothing, complete with leather shoes and belts, and the sight of him right there in the most odd state only added to the unreal feeling of the night. Both of them looked at the other in silence for a few moments.

“Dean,” Cas started in that too-deep voice of his, somehow startling Dean again, “There are some things I have to discuss you. And I think I need a bit of help.”

“What?” Dean asked. He didn’t even know what to think.

“I need to talk with you about some things,” Cas said, “some events. I also need some help climbing a tree.”

* * *

 

## Now

Castiel’s Seminar in Musical Performance, Composition, and Improvisation is the next week. This is one of the classes Cas is most looking forward to: it would be a very small class size, 6-15 people, and it would involve them writing and playing music.

Castiel had been having a bit of trouble, lately, between the class with Dean and the charity project of his roommates, but he’s kept it together. He knows which things he’s allowed to feel about and which things he’s not- emotions too strong should be kept to music. Music is beautiful, perfect, and communicable to all. Everything else is just a distraction, everything else must be just a distraction.

He slips into the classroom and takes his seat near the back. He watches as 8 other students filed in. There would be musicians of all genres here, the idea is to be innovative here. Castiel is ostensibly only a classical and baroque musician, but he knows more about modern rock than he’s let only to anyone in years. That’s part of the reason he’s looking forward to this course. It will give him a chance to explore music he’s missed for awhile, in a context separate from the untouchable parts of his past.

A girl with brown hair and a guitar sits next to him in the back as all of the other students pick places in the first few rows. Her hair is a bit wavy and her face a little round. Cas suspects that she’s beautiful, but it’s hard to tell if that’s because of what she actually looks or her personality. She’s wearing a leather jacket and a bit of a smirk. She carries sass, confidence, and a flash of metallic sharpness in her walk.

“So,” she turns to him to ask, “what have you to done to deserve back row exile?”

“It’s just what I prefer,” Castiel says.

“Doesn’t mean you didn’t do anything to deserve it,” She says. She starts taking out her guitar instead of offering him her hand. “I’m Meg. I sit in the back because teachers don’t really notice if you’re high back here. Now why are you crowding this area, angel?”

“Because I’m an angel of solitude,” Cas replies. He ignores the comment about pot, though he has no doubt that it’s true. “Solitude and, apparently, tears and kings. That’s what the angel of the Lord Castiel is, anyway, and I’m named after him.”

“Literal angel, huh?” Meg asks. “You give yourself that name for your music, Clarence?”

“No,” Castiel frowns, “my parents gave it to me. They didn’t name me Clarence.”

“Your parents?” Meg says and snorts. “Did they want you to be a hippie punk rocker, or did they just believe too hard in nicknames?”

“Neither,” Castiel answers. “They’re very religious, and they don’t believe in nicknames at all.” _All of my siblings are named after angels as well,_ Castiel adds in his head. He doesn’t need any questions about that.

“Well, Clarence, I hope it doesn’t bother you too much that I’m going against your parents wishes,” Meg says. She looks up at him and smiles, a demonic yet playful smile.

“Nothing bothers me very much,” Castiel says. “Letting things bother me would be no way to live.”

Meg laughs at this, though Castiel meant it entirely sincerely.

“That’s the truth,” Meg agrees. “I like you, Clarence. Wanna be music buddies? Or maybe pot buddies?”

“Music is enough,” Castiel says. He holds out his hand. “Glad to be a friend.”

“You too, angel,” Meg says. She takes his hand without hesitating.

“Demon,” Castiel acknowledges with a nod of his head. Meg’s smile sharpens at that, but then class starts.

Castiel doesn’t know if Meg will be too much, but it’s not like he’s never known people to be more. He figures he’ll need at least one friend to survive the semester, and it’s best that it’s someone completely unconnected.

He starts the class with satisfaction with this turn of events, at least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Dean is, in fact, reacting to a scene that we did not see in the "Then" portion. It was one of the Bible studies lesson that left him humiliated and forbidden from going back, in case you can't tell. But now Cas has shown up? Hmmm.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas witnessed what really happened on that fateful bible studies lesson that left Dean forbidden from returning.
> 
> Now Dean meets his new floormates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sunday update. I'm nothing if not punctual... or something. Why'd you all stop commenting? I'm happy you're all reading, but I haven't gotten a comment on a chapter in quite a bit. 
> 
> Playlist inspired by this fic [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/fieldsofgarlicforever/playlist/6FO6cnQDmyEGw79UOsr8pz).

## Then

“Woah,” Gabriel said. Anna was speechless for a moment. Castiel looked at it, but didn’t move or speak.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said.

Lucifer shrugged and pulled the book back towards himself and flipped through the pages. The smell of aged paper wafts over and the pages made a crackling noise. The paper threatened to break from the simple act of flipping through it. Pieces of the spine had already fallen off, breaking the lines of water damage that distort the words “The Holy Bible” going down it. The cover was a worn red, and the golden lettering on the front cover detailing the exact printing of the book wasn’t legible from where Castiel was sitting a couple feet away. Still, it was easy to recognize this book, they all saw it multiple times a week: it was Father Zachariah’s prize Bible, the one he kept on a special stand in the library. He was very fond of detailing how it’s a one of few surviving copies of a special printing of the Bible from the medieval era.

Zachariah doesn’t even like people touching it, much less holding it as Lucifer was right then. They’d been there all day for a special morning service, and Naomi had sent all of them but Michael to wait in the library for the Youth Bible Studies session to start as she spoke with their uncle.

Lucifer hadn’t wasted much time before messing with things. He had started pulling books randomly reading off humorous, imaginary passages from them. Gabriel’s snorting laughter had encouraged him, and Anna had went along helping him make things up until Lucifer went for Zachariah’s prize.

“Luce,” Anneal hissed, “What if they come back right now?”

“How much do you think they’d care,” Lucifer asked absently, “if they came back and one of us was injured? One of us fell off a chair and hit their head in the wrong spot, say. Do you think they’d be all that concerned, or do you think they’d just tell us off?” Castiel pulled his eyes from the book to the floor at that. Facing what was happening in the room would break Castiel’s growing detachment from the scene.

“What exactly are you saying?” Anneal asked.

“I’m saying,” Lucifer said, “that they might care a bit, depending on what we hurt. But all in all they, any of those three, would care more about us if we hurt this book than if we hurt ourselves.” _They’d care,_ Castiel thought, _they’d be angry. Not as angry as if we hurt the book, but we’d be punished._ Castiel blinked at the floor. He didn’t feel the need to speak. He felt nothing but an odd hollowness.

“Luce...” Gabriel said. “Just put the book down, bro. We were having fun.” Gabriel looked at Lucifer with a streak of earnestness, rare for him. Gabriel, in small, unspoken ways, looked up to Lucifer. Gabriel was the one most likely to laugh at Lucifer’s jokes, whether or not they were actually funny.

“How about if one of us fucked up?” Lucifer asked. “Fucked up or got hurt, which one do you think they’d give more of a shit about?” Castiel slunk a bit further down into his chair. He used to cry at time like these, before the emptiness started coming instead of feelings.

They were all silent in response to this, they didn’t so much as blink, so Lucifer continued.

“They rail on and on about judgement and sinning,” Lucifer said, “it’s easier to see that they care more about when we sin then when we pray. Try your best to be a saint and the best thing they’ll do for you is ignore you- otherwise they’ll nitpick like vultures as you play dead. But fuck up, oh, fuck up and they’ll care. If God is so great then His judgement is better than nothing, right?”

Another pause. This one so silent that the silent echoes of Naomi’s conversation can be heard through the walls. Castiel started pressing his fingernails into the base of his hand. His breathing stayed regular, and the hollowness came. It wasn’t just inside him, though, it was outside him as well. It was between him and this entire conversation.

“I’m not going to defend them,” Anneal said. She glanced around before saying it, checking to make sure it was already them, though she already knew this. “But maybe if you don’t like vultures of criticism, purposely messing up is not the way to go.”

Lucifer scowled. “I get criticism no matter what,” he snapped, “I might as well have done something to deserve it. They named me Lucifer after all, shouldn’t I have something to show for it?”

For some reason this made Gabriel burst out laughing. Castiel flinched at the suddenness of the sound. Lucifer’s tone tasted more bitter than Castiel’s morning coffee, there was no humor in his words. But then, something harsh in Gabriel’s laugh broke any humor it might have had as well.

Gabriel stopped, almost as abruptly as he started.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’ just... it’s funny isn’t it? They named you Lucifer, and here you are!” Gabriel gave a wave of his hand.

Lucifer actually smiled at that, like this was some sort of dark in-joke between him and Gabriel. Castiel gave glance up, and as soon as he saw that smile his gaze went right back down to the floor.

“Brother, you are right about that,” Lucifer said. “It’s the perfect irony, true comedy really.”

In the silence after that comment Castiel realized that he could hear footsteps coming from the hall. Lucifer shoved the book into place and jumped for a seat. Anneal snorted.

A moment later the hall door opened, and Zachariah and Naomi came in, Michael trailing after them. Only 15 minutes later other students started drifting in. Dean came earlier, as he had gotten into the habit of after meeting Cas.

“Hey there!” Dean said, sliding on in the chair next to Cas. There was no seat assignment aside from the habitual one, but as with any human endeavor, habits were enough.

“Hello Dean,” Cas replied. He thought it was probably too much to attempt a smile, the hollowness was still fading.

“So, guess what Sammy did, the little nerd,” Dean said.

“Did he sign up to attend an overnight library sleepover?”

“Hey!” Dean objected. “Even if you know the answer it’s polite to let me tell you. How do you know, anyway?”

“You told me, Dean,” Cas said. “You tell me a lot about Sam.”

“Well, if you had a little brother that impressive you’d brag about it, too,” Dean sat back and crossed his arms. “You doing well today, Cas?”

Cas considered. “My day has been adequate,” he said, “nothing entirely unexpected.”

“Humph,” Dean said. He looked like he was going to say more, but then Zachariah started tapping his pointer stick on the library whiteboard. Dean stored his comments and questions about making Cas’s day better for later, after class.

Only it turned out that “after class” never came. Dean barely had time to ask Cas if he thought they were going to have pie for lunch dessert because “that sounds a-pie-tizing” when Zachariah was calling for him to come back in. Dean was nearly completely robbed of seeing Cas’s face changed from a slightly confused look to the pressing-his-lips-together-crinkly-nose look that Cas got when he suppressed laughter at a bad joke; and depriving Dean’s chance to appreciate Cas’s reaction to a bad pun was a true crime.

“Dean!” Zachariah called. “Mr. Winchester! Come back to the library immediately. No, not you too Castiel, go enjoy lunch. Winchester, come here.”

With Castiel’s quizzical eyes at his back and a sinking feeling in his stomach Dean walked over to the library door. Father Zachariah held it open for him, seemingly only so that he could continue to stare his hostility into Dean’s skull as he walked through the door.

Castiel watched them enter. He stayed in place for a few moments and considered waiting outside the door. Eventually he decided that this would only further embarrass Dean and irritate Father Zachariah. He walked away.

Anneal and Gabriel didn’t comment when he joined them, though Anneal gave him a quick smile. Castiel didn’t notice, though. He was worried about whatever his uncle was speaking to Dean about. Biggest among his concerns was whether or not someone had noticed that Dean had been taking over all the leftover food. Cas felt like that should technically be allowed, but suspected that it wasn’t. He only half tuned into what Anneal and Gabriel were discussion with their own church friends, but this wasn’t all that unusual.

“So, what, Deanie left early or something?” Gabriel asked. “Castiel? Little bro, hey, Earth to Cas?”

“What?” Castiel asked.

“Dude, sometimes I wish I could visit whatever planet you live on,” Gabriel said. “Why are you hanging with us today? Dean left you out to dry?”

“He didn’t, right?” Anneal asked. “He better not have. He’s not that cute.”

“Woah, woah, wait,” Gabriel said. He put up a hand to gesture to stop and turned to his sister. “You think he’s cute? That little guy?”

“He’s nearly fourteen,” Castiel defended. He wasn’t sure why, he had no particular investment in whether or not Anneal found Dean attractive.

“Oh, well, nearly fourteen, that’s soooo much better,” Gabriel waved an arm. “Not.”

“I didn’t say I found him attractive,” Anneal said. “I said he was cute. Like a small animal or baby. Anyway, I’m only fifteen. What exactly are you implying about me?”

“I’m not implying any-” Gabriel stopped. “Is that him?”

Castiel turned to see Dean walking straight through the recreational hall. Dean wasn’t heading for him, or evening looking side to side at all. Even though Cas knew something was wrong he still felt a bit hurt at being utterly ignored.

Cas started walking toward Dean, who didn’t even acknowledge him when Cas was merely a few feet away. Dean just kept going, forcing Cas to power walk to keep up.

“Dean?” Cas asked. He reached out. “Dean, is something wrong?”

“Nothing,” Dean said. He shook off Cas’s hand when it brushed his arm. “Just _leaving._ ”

Dean slammed open the exit door when he was close enough and walked through without looking back. Cas was left standing on the other side, watching the door swing back and forth.

* * *

 

## Now

“Look, I think it was pretty clear that he was insulting me,” Dean says.

“I’m not denying that,” Benny says, “I’m just saying that yall’re both pretty passive aggressive fuckers.”

“Wait, so, who is this guy, again?” Victor asks.

They’re in the main living area of the dorm. Victor and Kevin are hogging the coffee tables with their homework. Dean had thought Victor was type-A until he met this Kevin guy- Kevin’s a 16 year old college freshman double majoring in political science and economics. He seems to have set up a large paper nest engulfing the couch and coffee table on the left side of the room. If it were anyone else he’d be kicked out with immediacy and thoroughness, but Kevin is such a little ball of stress that no one has it in them to kick him off. He’s practically curled up into a ball around his current assignment, and the only color in his pasty, sleepless face is the red rings of his eyes.

Dean and Benny are taking up the couch on the other side, with Victor sitting across from them on the floor doing his own homework. The two single person chairs have been moved over to the side of the room farthest from the door, where Garth and Andy play some Mario game and occasionally weigh in on the conversation. They also occasionally shout cheers and swears. The room composed of drab grey walls and furniture that is equally boring and uncomfortable, but with everyone in here it managed to be more relaxing than Dean’s dorm room right now.

“FUCK YOU, YOU COMMIE TURTLE BASTARD!” Andy shouts at the screen.

“I’ll guess we’ll just have to restart the level,” Garth sighs, “again. What about this Cas fellow irritates you so much, Dean?”

“He- he’s pretentious,” Dean says. “He literally sits above the classroom, he never talks to anyone, and he contradicts all of my fucking comments!”

“Yeah,” Benny says, “but you do that last one to him, too. How’d you even know this fellow is pretentious, brother?”

“Because- because he _is_ ,” Dean insists. “He’s conservative too. He’s part of that one Brotherhood of Christian Values thing.”

“Ain’t nothing wrong with being religious, Dean,” Benny says. “It don’t mean he’s a conservative. Religious people have varying opinions on things just like everybody else.”

“Amen to that!” Garth agrees. He and Kevin have restarted the level, so he doesn’t look back to say it. “I’m Christian, and that doesn’t stop me from being a member of the LGBT community. I can be an advocate against homophobia and sexism while retaining my faith.” It sounds a bit rehearsed, like this isn’t the first time he’s had to give that speel.

“It’s not that they’re Christian!” Dean says. He throws up his hands in appeal. “It’s that they’re conservative family-values Christian! They’re intolerant bigot Christian, that’s the problem!”

“Yeah, Dean’s right,” Victor puts in. He’s pulled out his phone and is scrolling through something on it. “I just looked them up, and they are right-wing nutbags. I can’t speak for Castiel though- maybe his parents made him join the group.”

“Maybe he’s just an asshole,” Dean mutters. Dean knows exactly how true that “maybe” probably is and, though no one here could suspect the extent of Dean’s knowledge on Cas, this makes him even more defensive. It doesn’t matter, anyway. He can’t let Cas get to him.

“Garth, can I ask you a question, brother?” Benny inquires, ignoring Dean entirely.

“Sure thing!” Garth says.

“Fuck yeah!” Andy shouts about something happening in the game.

“Now, I was raised in a very Southern place,” Benny starts. “It was a small town, and there were a lot of impolite comments and assumptions about gay folk. I’ve heard that all of that ain’t true, and I’ve always tried to withhold judgement on any strangers, unlike Dean here-”

“Hey!” Dean objects.

“-but I’ve never actually met a gay- a LGBT person before,” Benny continues. “I was just wondering, what’s it like? And is there anything I should know, to be polite and all?”

“You seem like an alright dude,” Garth says pleasantly. Garth says everything pleasantly, even disagreement. “I’m not actually gay. I’m bi- I’m not just attracted to one gender. I’m also asexual, and I don’t really want to have sex with anyone. I could be attracted to anyone, but not sexually. I just want romance.”

“Huh,” Benny says. It’s noise of acknowledgement more than anything else.

“Took me a long time to figure it out,” Garth continues. “A while to figure out that I don’t just like girls, and awhile more to figure out I just don’t like anyone _that_ way. There are all sorts of identities- not just sexually, either. Gender-wise too, it’s more complicated than just boys and girls.You know, if you’re really interesting in this there’s an ally training down at the LGBTQ Student Center in a couple weeks, we have one every year. It’ll be a good bit of fun!”

“Hmm,” Benny hums. “I might just do that. This is why I left my littler town- it was like purgatory, ain’t nothing really there. Wanted to learn more about this world. Dean, Victor, any of ya’ll want to come with me?”

“Not me,” Dean puts in quickly, “I’m not into that stuff.”

“I’ll do it,” Victor says. “Didn’t really know how to bring this up, but I’m actually gay.”

“Really?” Benny asks. “No shit. I guess I did know a gay fellow, then, Garth.”

“That’s how it often works out,” Garth says.

“I’ll come,” Kevin looks up to say. This is one of only three instances this evening that he’s demonstrated that he can still see the world beyond his homework. The two other instances involved food. “I need to have a good range of both political and nonpolitical volunteering on my resume if I want to be the first Asian president. The shifting opinions and demographics on LGBT rights makes it optimal for future leaders.”

“Hell yes!” Andy shouts. This time he’s not talking about the game. “I’ll go for it. I am an equal opportunity fucker!”

“So, you’re bisexual?” Victor asks.

“Bisexual, pansexual, whatever you wanna call it,” Andy says. “Pan’s probably more accurate. Anyway I’m going for it!”

“Wait, pansexual?” Benny asks. He frowns with some confusion. “Can’t say I’ve heard of that one.”

“Attracted to people regardless of gender,” Andy clarifies. He suddenly throws his remote- and his body with it- sideways. “Waoh! Near miss! Yeah, attraction regardless of gender. Of attraction to all genders? Some shit like that, either fits me.”

“Wow,” Dean remarks. “A- alot of people in this room aren’t straight.”

“Still sure you don’t want to volunteer with us?” Garth asks.

“Nah,” Dean shakes his head, “I’ll be busy enough with class. You can all have your gay fun.”

Dean’s chest feels weird from this entire conversation. Not good or bad, just odd. _It doesn’t really matter if you’re bi,_ he thinks to himself. _You’re settling down anyway. And it’s not like that’s a real thing._ His thoughts break a bit here, resistant at the insult to his friends. _Not for you, anyway,_ he adds, though he’s not totally sure what that means. He shakes his head.

“I’m getting a bit tired,” Dean says outloud. “Should probably head on down to my room, try to get a bit of work done before turning in. ‘Night, everyone.”

“Wait, wait,” Victor interrupts Dean’s walk out. “Just wanted to ask you- I thought Castiel’s name was Cas when you brought him up. Why’d you call him that?”

“I call him that,” Dean explains, “because _‘Castiel’_ is a stupid mouthful of a name. Goodnight.” Dean turns and finishes his exit of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this "Then" scene is a flashback to what Dean was reacting to last scene. If what you really wanted to know was why Cas just showed up outside his house last, well, you'll have to wait a little more. 
> 
> Dean's roommates are much gayer than he expected. I mean, no quite as gay as my college dorm, but I'm actually in LGBT+ themed housing. Pretty big contrast between his floor and Castiel's floor, huh? 
> 
> Also, "stupid mouthful of a name". You always think that, Dean?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas listened to his family deal with Lucifer’s actions, and decided for the first time ever to sneak out.
> 
> Now Castiel walks home with Meg and sees a face he hadn’t expected to see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry that this chapter is a bit late. It's only a little after midnight on Friday where I am, though, so it's basically Thursday. I've gotta be honest with you, readers- I've been having a hard time dealing with the election results. They were really emotionally devastating for me, and it will be a nightmare for so many more people. 
> 
> I'm going to continue to update this twice a week, though, no fear! It's not going to deal with the election at all, because I wrote most of it beforehand. Anyway, I hope that whatever you may or may not be going through, this fic can add just a little bit of positive feeling to your life. I mean, this particular chapter doesn't all have the most positive feeling, but I hope this fictional conflict is an interesting and overall good read. 
> 
> Thank you for reading. 
> 
> Warnings for familial emotional abuse, yelling, and mentioned physical abuse in this chapter.

## Then

“Don’t you respect anything?” Zachariah shouted, “Don’t you have respect for GOD?”

Castiel sits on his bed, curled up on his side. All of Zachariah’s comments are audible from his room. This was one of the angriest Castiel had ever heard him. Lucifer had taken the Bible, Lucifer had disrespected his elders, Lucifer had stolen God’s word, Lucifer had disrespected and humiliated his own uncle. Zachariah was livid, and every petty condescension he could manage to dress up in religion spilled from his mouth.

Still, Zachariah wasn’t the force behind this. Their parents were. Their father was stopping through for the night- or maybe he had been nearby, and Naomi had called him up. It didn’t matter. They were here. Castiel could hear Naomi’s voice every so often. She didn’t yell as much, though she did yell. Their father was the same.

Even some of the spoken comments were audible through the open door. They weren’t allowed to close their doors until eight pm, otherwise someone will think they’re up to something. It wouldn’t really matter if they closed their doors or not, the doors don’t have locks. Well, Lucifer’s did, but it was on the wrong side.

Castiel should have played his violin, his guitar, his bass, something, something to drown out the noise and make it better. He knew that he should, based off of prior experience, and that it would make him feel better. He just didn’t have the energy to lift himself off the bed.

He focused on his hand, laying on the bed. It seemed so odd that this moment was happening, that he was here on the bed listening to the yelling below him. He couldn’t entirely hear what was said, even what was screamed. The words mashed together, blurring into background.

Castiel pulled in his hand and rolled over onto his back. He looked up at the blank ceiling. Here he was, like always, being quiet in another room. Incapable of pretending that nothing was happening yet equally unable to actually engage with anything at all. The world was out of sync in moments like these, a quality that saved him as much as it incapacitated him.

He might have felt guilty about how much disconnecting with the world brought him. Guilt over the fact that he was usually involved enough to have the option to disconnect and guilt because, on some level, Castiel didn’t believe that he deserved to be spared any more than Lucifer. Still, if there was any guilt, it was overwhelmed by numbness.

Castiel pulled his arms around himself and closed his eyes. He curled back up again, this time pulling his arms close and hugging his knees to his chest the best he could. He tuned it out, “it” being everything, as best he could.

At some point, he fell asleep.

Gabriel shook him awake.

“Hey,” Gabriel whispered. “Hey, little bro. Gotta wake up for a bit. Mom’s gonna check up on us soon, you gotta change outta your clothes. C’mon sleepy-pants, wake up. Gotta get up.”

“Gabe?” Cas asked. He blinked a few times. He’d gotten nice and warm, and it was finally silent. It felt like his limbs were all weighted with the desire to just stay here. Stil, Gabriel kept shaking him and Castiel knew he had to. Castiel groaned and started stretching out.

“What happened?” Castiel asked. 

“I don’t know exactly,” Gabriel said. “They dragged Lucy up awhile ago, locked him in his room. I didn’t hear exactly what happened, I didn’t, but he’s got one real shiner.”

“Shiner?” Castiel asked, brain still a bit befuddled from his nap. He started working on sitting up. Castiel always gets up in stages.

“Black eye,” Gabe said. “C’mon, just get up and I’ll leave you be.”

Gabriel coaxed Castiel up the rest of the way. With Gabriel’s encouragement Castiel managed to get through changing and getting prepped for bed, despite still being half asleep and wanted to me anywhere but here.

“Cas,” Gabriel said before they parted for bed. Gabe and Anna had taken to calling Castiel by the nickname Dean had given him sometimes, it just seemed natural. Like it was already a name for Cas, he just hadn't claimed it before. “Just- good night, okay? Have awesome dreams,” Gabriel dropped his voice and looked straight at Castiel for a moment, “don’t let this shit get to you, okay? You don’t deserve it.”

Gabriel turned to leave, and as he left Cas muttered, “goodnight” after him. He didn’t react, and Castiel was pretty sure that he had been too quiet to be heard. It was hard for Castiel to speak when he knew that he couldn’t agree with what Gabriel had so intently told him. Castiel watched after his older brother before heading to his own room.

Castiel was laying in bed in the dark when Naomi came to check on them. He listened to her go through the hall, stopping at each doorway, before walking back downstairs. For some reason, despite how tired he was and how recently he had fought just to wake up, Castiel couldn’t go to sleep. He just stared up at a ceiling he couldn’t see in the dark.

He was hyper-aware of every sound around him, from his breathing to the thumps and creaks of the house. Castiel’s ears buzzed with silence. In his head the echos of the yelling played so loudly that it almost sounded like it was almost happening right now, just so far away that the sound was barely audible.

The sounds echoed in the hollow of his head until an actual thought came. The thought: Dean had taken the blame for stealing the Bible. Father Zachariah hadn’t even spoken to Lucifer while they were still at the church. Zachariah would need to blame someone for the stolen Bible, during lunch it had gone around that the Bible had been missing during the lesson. Apparently it had been missing the whole time and Zachariah had only sent them all out when he’d noticed, and several students had noticed before them.

Someone would be held accountable for this, but Castiel couldn’t imagine it being one of his family members. There were rumors about them, especially Lucifer, at church and everywhere else but they were never publicly challenged. He’d never seen anyone in his family told off or apologize in front of a group of people. Those things were dealt with internally, they wouldn’t tarnish the family name.

So someone would have to be to blamed. And that someone would be Dean, who nobody else liked anyway. Dean, who even Anneal and Gabriel thought didn’t really fit in there.

The look on Dean’s face when he told Castiel that “nothing” was wrong came up in Cas’s mind. He’d looked hurt and embarrassed, but also pissed. He was angry when he shrugged off Cas. Castiel rolled over, unable to get the image of Dean’s face out of his head.

It just- it was just so _unfair._ Dean didn’t deserve that. Dean was honest, he wouldn’t steal something like that. Why would Dean be punished for Lucifer’s crime?

The thought of punishment made something else occur to Cas. Would Dean be coming back to the study group? Even if Dean was allowed to, which he probably wouldn’t be, but even if he was, would he want to after that? The thought made Cas sit up. He felt a bit queasy, from fear and despair. He’d only known Dean for a few weeks, but he’d never had a friend like Dean before. Castiel usually wasn’t compelled to reach out to people the way he had with Dean, and even when he did it never really worked. Not like that.

The thought that Cas would never get to see Dean again destroyed any chance Castiel would have had at sleep. The idea was unbearable to him, he had to do something. Cas had no idea what he could do, but he still got up out of bed and fumbled over to the light switch. He felt jittery, anxiety at the prospect of losing Dean was running through him.

Cas looked around desperately. What could he do? He knew Dean lived in that motel across from the church, as hard as it had been for him to realize at first. He could go and talk to Dean about this, Dean would surely be feeling angry at being set up-

Castiel stopped his nervous glances at a new thought. Did Dean know that he was being set up? Would Dean genuinely believe that everyone thought that he was a thief? The worst part was that this would be partially true. Most of their classmates would think Dean was a thief. Castiel knew differently, his family knew differently, but how would Dean know that?

Dean would think that Cas believed him to be a thief. The realization stunned Cas, and then emotions came rushing in. Castiel felt his heartbeat speed up and his stomach clench. He didn’t understand why he cared so much what Dean believed Cas thought of him, but he did. It was intolerable to Cas that Dean might think that Castiel would doubt him.

Cas came to a decision. He would have to tell Dean some way. He went over to his closet and started to change into more appropriate attire for a secret. All the while Castiel was considering how he actually would sneak out.

Father Zachariah had probably left while Castiel was asleep, but that didn’t mean that his parents weren’t still up. Even if they weren’t up, would Castiel really be quiet enough to sneak all the way downstairs and out of the house without drawing attention? His parents rooms were at the top of the stairs, all their children’s rooms past them. He’d have to go directly by them to get out. Even if he did, then how would he get back in? It seemed impossible, and the consequences of getting caught were not things that Castiel wanted to consider.

When Cas had finished changing into his exercise clothes he turned around, and the window of his room caught his eye. He’d have to take out the screen, but he could probably figure that out. Castiel’s room was on the second story, but there was the roof of the deck covering outside his window. Maybe there would be a way down from there. If Castiel remembered correctly, there were bars on Lucifer’s windows, and he’d heard Naomi threaten to put some over Anneal windows when Anna had started considering dating. Maybe there was a way to sneak out that way.

Cas figured that it did hurt to try, so he opened up the window as much as he could and tried to figure out how to get out the screen. For a few terrifying moments it looked like the screen was screwed in, but then Cas found little levers on each side to pop up. It took him a few more minutes of struggling before he managed to get it popped out and could pull it through to the inside of his room. Before leaving he quickly turned off the lights.

It was awkward, crawling out the window, but possible and before he knew it he was on the roof. He looked around to see more windows to the right of him, but none to the left. His room was at the corner of the house, and at the end of the hall. He walked out a few steps, hoping that all his siblings were asleep.

A few feet out from the edge of the roof perpendicular to his room was a tree. Castiel walked over to inspect it. One of the branches reached out over the roof. The part sticking out over the roof was the thin end, but the branch got thicker as it got closer to the tree. It looked like it could take Cas’s weight.

Castiel looked over the edge of the roof, down at the lower branches of the tree. It was hard to tell exactly how far the lowest branch was from the bottom, or if there were enough sturdy branches on the way down.

Castiel shook his head when he realized what he was considering. Climbing down a tree for the first time in years in the middle of the night. When he didn’t even know if the tree was able to do it. For a moment he considered just going back inside.

Only for a moment, though. Cas needed to see Dean, it wasn’t optional, and, anyway, he’d come this far. He wasn’t about to back down. He carefully felt his way along the tree branch until he’d gotten to a part that seemed thick enough to hold his weight. Once he was satisfied he held on tightly and stepped off the roof.

He managed to hold on as he swung down, even though his leg hit the tree trunk. He slid closer to the tree trunk and felt his way down with his feet. It was going pretty well, feeling his way in the dark. Cas was most of the way down already when he missed a branch and fell the rest of the way.

He spent a few moments on the ground in the dark, waiting for the pain to settle. He stretched out and check for any broken bones or anything. When he had a few bruises, maybe some scratches, but nothing seemed to be broken. A few moments more and Cas even managed to get up. He’d only fallen a few feet.

He looked up at the tree. It seemed far more daunting, somehow, looking at the way up rather than the down. There was no going back now.

Cas took a few deep breathes and started his walk to Dean.

* * *

 

 

## Now

“You’re not too bad, for someone with a classical concentration,” Meg says.

“Thanks,” Cas says. “You’re not too bad for someone concentrated in the derivative mistakes of modern music.” Castiel doesn’t believe this, but he’s learned that the best way to interact with Meg is with untrue, or even semi-true, insults.

Cas is walking Meg to her dorm right now. He doesn’t normally engage with people like this, but then again people normally don’t engage with him through music. Castiel dismisses it as just a necessary thing- he’d probably end up having to make at least one friend at a college this size anyway. He might as well try to befriend a person completely outside of his roommates’ social circles. He should still probably try to keep friendships at a minimum. He’s not even completely sure walking anyone home and agreeing to be friends with them was a good idea.

(“Walk me home,” Meg orders at the end of class.

“Why?” Cas asks.

“Because I need a big strong man to protect me from the robbers,” Meg answers with an eye-roll. “Also because I have my fiddle at home and I want to school you on it.”

“Mine isn’t a fiddle,” Castiel says. “It’s a violin.”

“Fuck off and come on,” Meg says. She walks off and, after a moment of deliberation, Cas decides to follow her.)

“A fiddle and a violin are the same fucking instrument,” Meg says.

“Of course they’re not,” Cas replies. “A violin in something played in an orchestra, a fiddle is something played by the devil on a backroad.”

“God, you know, if I didn’t know you any better I’d say that you believed that,” Meg says. “That devil shit.”

“I do,” Castiel says. Because the only person here is Meg he adds, “Ostensibly.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Meg asks. “You either believe or you don’t, pretending doesn’t count.”

“I’m fairly certain that there are many Americans who would put themselves in between the ‘believe’ and ‘don’t’ polls,” Cas says in answer.

“Yeah, but there’s a difference between not being sure or believing in some things and not others and believing ‘ostensibly’,” Meg says. “That’s really not an answer.”

“What do you believe?” Cas asks.

“I believe in some things and not others,” Meg says.

“That’s not an answer, either,” Cas replies, “and I believe that makes you a hypocrite, given your response to my avoidance of the question.”

“It’s a mixed up world we live in, angel,” Meg says. “It’s pretty hard not to be a hypocrite.”

“That’s true,” Cas agrees.

It’s a pretty miserable day out. They’re far enough North that it’s starting to get chilly already, and it’s been raining recently. It had stopped by the time class let out, but the trees are still dripping and the sidewalks still mucky. Cas doesn’t regret going with Meg, but he does hope to get inside some warm and dry building. Maybe he’ll read a bit when he gets home, he shouldn’t have to do anything for the rest of the night.

“Hey, Earth to Clarence,” Meg interrupts Castiel’s daydream. “Have you even heard the last few things I’ve said?”

“Not really,” Cas says.

“Least you’re honest,” Meg says. “I’m just saying that my favorite place to party is coming right up. Best bar for a Saturday night. You ever let your hair down, Clarence?”

“I don’t have enough hair to let down,” Cas answers. “My hair is short. I don’t party, either.” _My parents and dorm mates would both kill me if I did._

“Well, you don’t have to,” Meg says, “but you’re definitely missing out on some college spirit. There’s nothing quite like a bunch of drunk people huddled together in a room too dark to see and too loud to hear.”

“Is that an endorsement or a critique of partying?” Castiel asks.

“Why not both?” Meg flashes him a smile.

They start walking by the building that Meg pointed out. Its name, both painted in large letters on the front of the building and found on a light up sign over the doorway, is “The Trickster’s Den”. The building is completely cement and doesn’t appear to have any windows. This would make the place imposing, had it not been for the bright murals and posters found all over its walls. The color purple and dresses are both common motifs, as well as posters of people in ridiculous costumes and silly names.

Right in the smack in the middle of the front wall, right beside the doorway, is a poster larger than any of the others. It demands attention, and from Castiel attention it gets. He stops and just stares at it, his mouth slightly open.

“Yup,” Meg smiles. She sees Cas’s shock but misunderstands its origins. “That’s Loki, owner of the place. Head up his own ass, but he can definitely throw a party.”

Between the bright green top hat, make-up, matching victorian formalwear, formalwear that appears to be missing a few too many components for victorian modesty, and the years since Castiel had seen him he’s barely recognizable. It’s possible that Uriel passed by this very mural with a long condescending glance and absolutely no recognition. But Castiel hasn’t forgotten the face of his own brother quite yet, and there Gabriel is.

“What, think he looks good?” Meg asks.

Castiel closes his mouth and shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “I think he looks like an asshole. A pig-headed, over-inflated, shitty asshole.”

That startles a laugh out of Meg.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “That’s definitely true. Still, like I said: he knows how to have a good time. How ‘bout you not head to ‘The Trickster’s Den’, though, if you wanna party? Somehow I don’t think he’d find that description the most flattering.”

Meg starts to lead the way away.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you swear, Clarence,” she says as she starts walking. “But you did one hell of a job of it.”

Castiel gives the poster a quick yet poisonous glare before he follows after her. It doesn’t matter. Gabriel had made his own decisions. He doesn’t stay at Meg’s place, once he gets there. He loves duets, and the opportunity to play with Meg is a good one, but he decides that he needs to be alone for awhile. Meg doesn’t stop him, but she does seem to notice something off about him. At least she doesn’t voice her concerns.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, any mystery about why Cas was at Dean's house in Chapter 7 should be solved, I think. The scene in this chapter takes place directly after the events of last chapter, Chapter 8, and before the events of Chapter 7. In the "Then" timeline, that is. The "Now" Timeline is just a normal sequence. If you want to see what happens after Cas got to Dean's place, well, keep reading!
> 
> If you're curious about Gabriel showing up in the "Now" timeline, and exactly what's up with Castiel's reaction to him, well. Just keep reading, I'll keep updating. 
> 
> As always, feel free to comment. 
> 
>  
> 
> [Playlist Link](https://open.spotify.com/user/fieldsofgarlicforever/playlist/6FO6cnQDmyEGw79UOsr8pz)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas and Dean make future plans during Cas’s first visit to Dean’s motel room home.
> 
> Now Castiel’s housing program makes plans that threaten to leave him friendless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my update schedule is just regularly a few hours late at this point. That's fine, right?  
> If there's any misspelling and grammar mistakes in texts (there are characters texting in this chapter) it's intentional, to make it more realistic. 
> 
> Warning for more homophobia, same as in the previous chapters with Castiel's roommates.

##  Then

“You need what?” Dean asked. “Why?”

“Well, I think it’s fairly obvious that something happened today,” Cas said. He wasn’t entirely sure what to do now that he was here, so the need to explain everything at once overcame him. “I mean, I’m not sure I know all of what’s happened, but you were removed from the group. I actually might know some things-”

“Not that bit!” Dean said. “Except, yeah, I mean, probably that bit, but a tree? Also, how are you here?”

“I need to climb a tree back into a bedroom,” Cas explains patiently. This part, at least, made sense to him. “I could get to the tree from my bedroom window, so I tried to climb down it, which didn’t work. After I had fallen I didn’t know how to climb back up, but I thought you could help me. I was actually planning to walk here anyway.”

“Ok-ay,” Dean said. Things were beginning to slid into place, but exactly where these places were still seemed unclear. “I still have some questions.”

“Right,” Cas nodded. He glanced around him at the badly lit parking lot, which, if not the main setting, was at least mentioned in many cautionary tales to him. “Of course. Uh. May I come inside, first?” 

“Oh,” Dean answered. “Yeah. Right.” He hadn’t even considered that he’d been making Cas stand out there. Dean hesitated. His earlier thoughts about Castiel’s probable disgust on seeing Dean’s home were still fresh in his mind, but here Cas was, asking to be let in. How could Dean refuse? What would Cas even do if Dean told him he couldn’t come inside? Dean shook his head quickly, to clear his thoughts, and stepped back into the open doorway. 

Cas looked at Dean for a moment, as if for some further cue, before taking a few steps inside. The place was not at all what Cas had imagined. Cas wasn’t sure what he would have imagined, he’d never been in a motel before, but he thought it would be something like the hotel rooms he’d been in. Hotel rooms were always impersonal, neat, and seemed freshly clean. This place was the exact opposite of impersonal and spotless. There wasn’t a foot in the room that could be considered spotless. It smelled more like teenage boy than soap, though that didn’t really bother Cas.

“Well?” Dean asked from behind him. Dean had closed the door, and closed what had sounded like an unreasonable number to locks to Castiel, and was now looking at Cas. His look and tone hovered on the line between expectant and aggressive. 

Castiel blinked at the sound of Dean’s voice and turned around.

“What’d do you think? Home sweet home, right?” Dean asked. 

Cas looked around. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say. 

“My mother would hate this place,” Castiel said. “I’m a bit surprised she even let it exist across the street from her church. But I think my brother Gabriel would like it. I’m not even sure Anna would mind it, she can be very messy.”  _ And Lucifer would like it _ , Castiel added in his mind,  _ just because mother would hate it. Micheal would hate it, maybe for the same reason. _

“Huh,” Dean responded. “I guess I can see that. Gabe is a messier eater than Sammy, and that’s saying something.” Dean paused. “But what do you think about it, Cas?”

“I don’t know,” Cas stated, “it wasn’t what I expected. I like that you’re here, though. You should be the group, too. You didn’t steal the Bible.” 

That was abrupt enough to throw Dean. For some reason the only reaction Dean could think of was to be contrary.

“Yeah?” Dean asked. “And how do you know that? I could have. It was an expensive copy, you know, right there up there on display. Literally on a pedestal. Wasn’t it just begging to be stolen?”

“You didn’t steal it, Dean,” Cas said. “Lucifer stole it. He did give it back, but you didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, well, Daddy Zach didn’t know that,” Dean’s contrary streak kept going. “Something gets stolen, there’s some hoodlum like me around who needs a bit of cash, it wasn’t an unreasonable assumption. He was trying to do the best he could when he kicked me out-”

“He knew.” Cas cut Dean off. “He knew it was Lucifer. He just wanted to let the family deal with it quietly. He was protecting us.”

That threw Dean. He’d been pissed as hell at Zachariah for thinking it had been him, but he had thought that Zachariah just didn’t consider Lucifer. Zachariah had been so high-and-mighty telling Dean off and kicking him out, it hadn’t occurred to him that Zechariah had known that it was a lie. After the initial shock, Dean was immediately pissed.

“WHAT?” Dean completely forgot about his neighbor. “What the fuck? He- he fucking knew? That- that asshole! That dickhead!”

“Yes,” Cas agreed. He was pleased that Dean knew, it had seemed to him to be a great injustice for Dean not to know. “I suppose he is that. A hypocrite and a- an- asshole.”

Cas said the swear with some hesitation. He’s never said a word like that before, not that he could remember. He felt very guilty and, even worried. It seemed unlikely that Dean would disapprove, but some very illogical part of Castiel’s mind expected Dean to pull out a phone and call Castiel’s mother. 

Instead, Dean looked at Cas for a moment and then started giggling. “He is,” Dean said, “such an asshole, and you just said it pal.” Dean paused to gaze at Cas with a smile. “Have you ever sworn before?”

“My parents don’t approve of swearing,” Cas explained. “So, no. My family doesn’t even like swearing substitutes, like ‘gosh’ or ‘darn’. That might be because of that time when Gabriel called everything ‘fudging’, though.”

“Dude,” Dean asked. “How sheltered are you? Is your mom a total dictator that doesn’t even let you watch TV?”

“There are a few channels we’re allowed to watch,” Castiel said.   
“Like what?” Dean scoffed. 

“Well,” Cas said, about to answer well the comedy of it hit him. He contained the sudden urge to laugh as he answered. “You know about the televised preachers, right?”

Dean bust out laughing again. Somehow a few minutes with Cas had made him completely forget about his anger and despondency. Castiel’s presence had banished the unfairness of the night and brought Dean to the here and now. 

Castiel’s own reality had been shifted by walking through the door. He had his own world to forget, and watching Dean laugh had made that world and it’s worries vanish completely. 

“What, like, those dudes that yell a lot and ask for money?” Dean managed to ask. 

“Not all of them,” Castiel said. “Some of them are scammers and false prophets.”

“Wait, so you weren’t even allowed to watch cartoons?” Dean asked. “Seriously?”  
“I was allowed to watch some of them,” Cas offered. “The ones with proper morality.”

“Which ones have proper morality?” Dean asked. “‘Veggietales’?”

“The ones with the talking fruit?” Cas asked. “No, those made a mockery of God. Actually, I think we did see one of them, but then Zachariah intervened. He gave a lecture on how they are unholy.”

“No shit,” Dean said. “Unholy? Damn. So you’ve basically seen no TV at all? Virtually no mainstream stuff, anyway?”

“Yes,” Cas said. Usually when people asked these questions about him he felt judged, but somehow he got the feeling that Dean was just bewildered. Which was still disconcerting, but better than judgement. It still made Cas feel self-conscious, but many things did. He’d learned to hide that. 

“If you haven’t seen any TV then that means,” Dean said slowly, figuring out the shape of each word before deciding to just throw them all out there, “I get to watch them with you for the first time!”

“What,” Cas said.

“I mean,” Dean said, “if you want, you know, to see them. You’re probably not gonna like all of them- and there isn’t that much time- and I guess we’d need to see movies too, and music, hell, you’re a musician and you haven’t even heard Kansas! Or ACDC!” Seeing that his backpedaling had gone off track, Dean quickly added “if you want to, I mean,” before shutting up.

“I guess so,” Castiel said. He desperately wanted to, achingly so, but memories of his mother’s disapproval and what Lucifer was like stopped him. It was even that Lucifer behaved immorally, though Castiel supposed that he did, it was how angry and unhappy he was. Is that where this path would lead Castiel, as well?

Dean’s face wilted the tiniest bit at Cas’s reluctance. Cas looked at him and thought that Lucifer surely couldn’t have had a friend like this, that whatever bad influence Michael will wax on about getting to Lucifer as Gabriel pouts and Anna pretends not to hear couldn’t have been like Dean. Cas felt that Dean couldn’t leave him unhappy. 

“It would be nice,” Cas adds. “I could come over late like this, a few more times this summer. We still have nearly two months left. I know how to get out, now.”

“YES,” Dean gives a little jump before immediately cooling down and sticking his hands in his pockets, “I mean, nice. That’d be good.” 

“I actually need to get home tonight, however,” Cas said. “Can I get a bit of help, climbing the tree outside my house?”

“Right!” Dean said. “Yeah. Let’s head out and do that.”

The walk back to Castiel’s house seemed much shorter than his walk to Dean’s home had been. When they got there it took a bit for them to figure out how they could climb the tree, and even more time to actually do it. By the time Cas got into his room both him and Dean had a number of scratches and bruises, with even more that they’d be discovering the next day. Still, both felt much less sore than they had when the night had started. 

* * *

 

##  Now

“A flier campaign?” Balthazar asks. He picks up one of their green fliers from its orderly stack on the dorm table. “Say YES to Religious Freedom for CHRISTIAN STUDENTS. I’m sorry to break it to you boys, but I think some of the workers at the LGBT Student Center are Christian.”

“Well.” Uriel says. “Those sorts tend to be not-very-Christian Christian. Why should their version of Christianity overrule  _ ours? _ ”

“Are they Christian the same way you’re Christian, Balty?” Gordon asks. 

Castiel quietly stacks and organizes the piles. Uriel had originally tried to get him to write some, but quickly Castiel developed cases of both writers block and terrible writing. He’s since been relegated to printing and organizing duty. Castiel’s trying very hard to avoid organizing the brightly-colored anti-gay fliers into a rainbow. It seems like no matter how he color codes it the fliers are still reminiscent of a rainbow.  _ Who chose the bright yellow and deep purple colors for anti-gay fliers?  _ Castiel finds himself wondering throughout his stacking.

Balthazar asks that same question, shaking his head.

“I just have one question,” he begins, “ _ why  _ in the name of God’s tits did you make the fliers  _ rainbow? _ Why not just have them be grey? At least then they’d accurately reflect the dullness of your personalities.” 

“I’m sorry our that we can’t all be as sharp and bitter as you, Balthazar,” Alastair says with a cold smile. “Do you want to go complain to your parents?” 

Balthazar bristles at the mention of his parents. He gives Alastair a glare as sharp as daggers. 

“I was just trying to help with your colorscheme,” Balthazar says. “If my parents ask you can tell them that. One more color tip: that green is hideous. Anyway, I’m going out.”

“As a member of this living community you are required to help with our charitable projects,” Uriel informs Balthazar. Balthazar just pulls on his dark black jacked and pops up the collar. 

He turns back to address Uriel one last time: “I did help out. Didn’t you hear my color tip?” 

Balthazar had been correct about the green, Castiel had noticed it before. It’s a neon green. Normally Castiel has a high tolerance for green as his favorite color, but this color actually hurt to look at.  _ Of course,  _ some treacherous part of Cas’s mind notes,  _ your favorite greens are more the light greens of a certain boy in your English class, right?  _ Castiel ignores both the thought and the twist of guilt it gives him. 

“He is an annoying little twit,” Azazel says. “I wonder how quickly we’ll be able to kick him out.”

“He’s right about the green though,” Alastair says. “Who picked that color?”

“Castiel,” Uriel orders, “Reprint the greens. Find a new paper color.”

Castiel nods and hurries off. He doesn’t even know where the paper came from, who bought it from where, but he’s glad enough to have an excuse to leave for a bit. Once he’s out of the room and safely out of their sight he pulls out his phone. He gave Meg his number last class, and he could use the words of an actual friend right now. 

_ Hey. U got plans for Saturday Oct 3rd?  _ A new text reads.  _ Like two weeks from now? _

_ Just handing out homophobic fliers _ , Cas thinks. He types,  _ Probably. Why? _

_ Because i’m stalking u.  _ She sends back.  _ Because i was gonna invite you to something, moron. _

_ What were you going to invite me to?  _ Castiel types back.

_ Ally training, gay center,  _ Meg types to him, _ p. fun, gives out free condoms. i help run it so it’s obvs wondrous.  _

Castiel just stops walking and closes his eyes. His new friend runs the ally trainings at the campus LGBT Center, the same one he’d be protesting in a few weeks. Wonderful. This is why Castiel doesn’t make friends. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so you have the rest of the visit, a direct continuation of the "Then" section of Chapter 7. 
> 
> By the way, this "Ally Training" that Meg mentions just so happens to be the same ally training casually mentioned by Garth in the "Now" section of Chapter 8. Just, you know, fun facts...


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean learned good news before his first day of school.
> 
> Now Castiel and Dean verbally spar in their Introduction to Literature class.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Do you think it would be more honest to characterize my updates as Sunday and early, early Friday morning rather than Thursday? Anyway, here's the update! 
> 
> No real warnings in this chapter, besides maybe implied parental neglect. But you already knew about that. probably.

##  Then

When the first day of school rolled around John was there to drop Sam and Dean off. He dropped of Sam first, and talked to Dean a bit on the way to the school. 

“Summer’s over, Dean,” John said. “You ready to go back to the real world?”

“Yes sir,” Dean said. 

“That’s good. Gotta be prepared for school,” John nodded. “Now, you’ve been through this enough and I called the school up before hand, so I’m not gonna walk in with you like you did your little brother, okay?” 

“That’s fine, Dad,” Dean said. It made him a bit nervous, actually, he wasn’t sure how’d it go without a legal guardian, but he could deal. His father didn’t need to know about his nervousness.

“Dean, I want to talk to you about something,” John stated. His tone was very serious. Dean looked down at his own hands. “I’ve got good rates at this motel and my job’s gonna keep me traveling in ways where I can’t take you boys with me for awhile. I’m gonna need you and Sam to stay here, at least until next summer. Probably longer.” 

“Yes sir,” Dean agreed. His heart rate quickened a little bit with excitement. Wait until he told Cas that he’d be staying! “This is actually a great town to stay in, Dad.” 

“I’m glad you think so, son.” John said. “The Harvelles live nearby, you hung out with Jo over the summer, right? Ellen and I still aren’t on great terms, but she’s someone to turn to. She should be good help with you boys. Still, you’re gonna be doing a lot of looking after your brother this year. You feel up to the task?”

“Yes sir,” Dean answered immediately. “I can do it, Dad, definitely.”

“That’s what I like to hear, Dean,” John said. “I need to know I can count on you. School’s right up here. Mind if I drop you off in the lot?”

“Nope,” Dean said. “It’s good.”

Dean went straight to the principal's office. The lady at the desk was a bit surprised at a new student enrolling so late, but she was perfectly polite. Perhaps a bit too polite, it was fairly obvious that there was some judgement hidden in her voice. Whether it was for Dean or his parents Dean didn’t know nor even think to consider, what mattered to him was that it was there. 

He ended up waiting in the office for 20 minutes or so in some cardboard-cushioned waiting chair until the right administrator to came along. Through this time the secretary at the desk made a few more calls and even greeted and chatted with a couple of visitors, both of whom were well known to her. All this gave Dean the awkward feeling of an outsider, but he was used to that. 

The administrator seemed to have a number of papers to sign, and a number of sighs at the lack of presence on the part of Dean’s father. Transfer records showed up pretty quickly and gave Dean a bit of a respite, at least. After that it was a quick trip to the guidance counselor's office, where Dean had to wait for another 15 minutes for his counselor to arrive. Once the counselor had arrived the talk with Dean itself was quick. Dean’s grades were good, they could probably manage to put him in classes at the right level, he might end up in one or two honors classes- and no, Dean would not have a say in that. Dean would also not have a say in his elective classes. It turns out that Dean showed up too late to have any say in which classes he would take. 

By the time Dean actually got to his first period class it was mostly over and he already had a mild headache. He had to announce his name in front of the class, and the teacher made everyone there repeat their names. There was a bit of murmuring around the classroom, probably about him.

Dean decided to roll with it, as always. If he was gonna be muttered about as the new kid wherever he went, then he would just go for it. He was wearing his father’s old leather jacket that day, which he’d shrunk with water enough so that it fit. Basically. It wasn’t comical, at least. Dean completed the look with his worn out blue jeans and by propping his feet up on his desk. If they were gonna whisper then let them at least say that he was badass. The teacher frowned at him, but didn’t say anything.

Anyway, there were a couple of pretty girls a few rows ahead of him. They both had dark hair, one long and one short, and both would glance back every once in awhile and then turn back to the other to whisper and giggle. Obviously besties. Dean knew not to let it get to him, that confidence was key. Next time the girl on the right looked back at him he winked at her. She broke out into a fit of giggles, and her friend looked back at Dean again to check him out. Dean could make it at this school. 

Sure, Dean didn’t get most of what the teacher said, but it was the first day. The teacher was mostly just laying out the lesson plan, anyway, which didn’t really matter since he gave out printed copies. Dean put it in his one folder. He was gonna have one full folder by the end of the year.

Oh, what did it matter. When was Dean actually going to use what he learned in English class, anyway?

* * *

 

 

##  Now

“I’m going to have to respectfully disagree,” Castiel starts. “What Dean fails to see is that-” 

“Mr. Novak, I’m certain that you have a fine argument against Dean’s previous propositions,” Missouri interrupts, “but I think it’s time we heard from some other students.”

“Yeah, Mr. No-vak,” Dean says, emphasizing each syllable in a bitter taunt. 

“Mr. Winchester, when I said it was time to hear from other students, I meant students other than either of you. You’ve been trying to take over this conversation just as much as Mr. Novak there has,” Professor Moseley says. “I appreciate both your enthusiasm and most of your comments, but this class discussion is not here to serve as your pissing contest.” 

Cas smiles the hard gin of victory, but it freezes on his face as Mostly gives him a look and continues, “This goes for both of you.”

Dean watches as Cas sits back in his chair and pretends to go through his papers. Dean now that he doesn’t really need to go through his paper, Casis just feeling embarrassed and trying to pretend that he wasn’t just called out. That knowledge would be more satisfying if Dean weren’t feeling the exact same way. 

Cas looks up from his paper, probably just to glare at Dean, and catches Dean staring at him. Castiel fixes Dean up with the coldest glare he’d gotten in awhile, the kind of glare that icy glare that Dean has only ever gotten from Cas, only ever since seeing him again here in this classroom. Dean sets his own face into a nasty look back, but he isn’t sure how effective it is. 

Castiel’s eyes are cold and hard, but still as blue and expressive as ever. He still looks like an angel, just a more… Biblical angel. The kind of angel sent to murder children rather than watch over them. Like an angel, Dean finds the glare kind of, well, awesome, in a more traditional sense of the word. 

It’s not necessarily a good feeling, it’s not the the feelings Cas’s eyes gave him back then. It’s not a warm feeling, not comfortable nor fluttery. It’s just incredible, both how Castiel has changed in such a short period and in how much Dean still thinks he looks amazing. He’s gone from summer mist to hurricane and really Dean should not be attracted to him. He definitely shouldn’t find it hot, the way Castiel looks just about ready to get out some lightning and smite him. 

But dammit if Dean’s emotions have ever been on the same page as he thought they should be one. 

Dean takes his resentment toward his own emotions and pushes that into his face, trying to turn it more from stare to glare. It must be effective enough, because after a few moments Cas looks away. 

Cas looks into his notes and drags his pen absently along the paper. He doesn’t have it in him to attend to the discussion at the moment. Really he should be happy, his hard look had worked as plan. Dean had stopped looking at him with that slight, lost desire and given him a face full of resentment. That had been enough to branches any warmth in Cas’s stomach and replace it with a brick being shoved down his throat. 

Really that was what Castiel had wanted. Really. It had been why he glared, because he’d spent too much time over the past couple years building up his armour just to have it be torn down by a pretty look from Dean smarmy, pretty boy Winchester. 

_ Is he really either of those things?  _ A thought, a small one coming from a very different place than most of his thoughts nowadays, came. Cas rolled his eyes and shot Dean a short, dirty look for good measure. Dean had always been a bit of both of those things, even when he’d been more. Cas doesn’t need a reminder of the more. 

Dean doesn’t see the dirty look Cas sends him at all, because he’s too busy muttering with Benny. 

“ _ He  _ was glaring at  _ me _ ,” Dean whispers. 

“I’m just saying, he ain’t the one who actually has to turn in his chair to glare,” Benny whispers back. 

“What does that even mean?” Dean asks, just remembering to keep his voice low. 

“It means that if you didn’t spend so much time hating the guy maybe he wouldn’t be spending so much time getting to ya,” Benny mutters. “Just let it go, brother, nothing even here worth getting worked up over.” 

“Of course there’s something getting worked up over!” Dean says. “Did you see the way he was looking at me, I mean-”

“Mr. Winchester.” Dean shuts his mouth immediately at the sound of his name being spoke in  _ that  _ tone of voice. 

“Now that we’ve heard from a few new students, I would be happy to hear your thoughts on the discussion,” Mosley says. “They seem to be passionate as anything.”

“I just,” Dean blinks. He shrugs and sits back in his chair, the picture of relaxed insolence. “I just think Nurse Josey could do better than Doctor Richards, I mean, he sorta is Doctor Dick in more than one sense.”

“Well, ain’t that enlightening for a discussion on  _ The Sound and the Fury _ ,” Professor Mosley replies. A few people in the class giggle. Mosley just shakes her head and moves onto the next person. 

Dean can’t help one last glance up a Cas. He’s staring down at his paper, concentrating on something Dean can’t see. Dean looks around again, and schools the expression on his fae to be calm. It doesn’t matter that Cas isn’t one of the people who laughed. It doesn’t, even if the sinking feeling in Dean’s stomach says otherwise. 

Cas stares down at his paper, using every bit of willpower he had. God in heaven, does he remember the amount of time he’d spent ranting about that relationship on “Doctor Sexy” to Dean, though Dean deserved it for making him actually watch that show. He thought they made the absolute worst couple on the show, and now he knows that Dean remembers. 

Dean remembered his annoying opinions on that terrible tv soap opera, “Doctor Sexy”, even though Castiel had forgotten before Dean just made that comment. Dean remembers, and Cas wishes he didn’t know that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Benny. He's just trying to get a good higher education, not watch these numbskulls argue in English. Prof Mosley just finds it funny. She can tell something's going on, but she knows those two will just have to work it out on their own.
> 
> By the way the Doctor Sexy characters are all completely made up. I take great liberties with Doctor Sexy.
> 
> Dean now wishes he had paid more attention in English class back then. It would've made his tension-laid arguing with Cas now much easier.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean and Cas hung out, watched movies, and Dean walked Cas home, just the two of them alone in the dark.
> 
>  
> 
> Now Castiel and his floormates run into Dean and his floormates, and the two groups are far from friendly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is most definitely completely on time. Even when chapters are late they're only, at most, a couple hours late. That pattern isn't going to change, by the way. I promise an end to this fic.
> 
> Warning for homophobia in this chapter, in the "Now" section.

## Then

“I’m a nerd, Dean?” Sam asked. “I’m not the one who decided that pop culture training should start with Star Wars.”

“You don’t have to be a nerd to know that everyone’s seen Star Wars, Sam!” Dean argued. “Hell, it’s not even pop culture anymore! It’s just culture! At this point you don’t have to be a fucking nerd to have seen it! Anyway, so many things reference it, how could I start off my pop-culture training without Cas having seen Star Wars?”

“I quite enjoyed it,” Cas agreed. “Though I disagree with Dean on some interpretations.”

“Darth Vader and The Force can’t _both_ be metaphors for god,” Dean said. They’d had this discussion before. “And Luke isn’t Jesus, Cas, _come on_.”

“I mean, there’s nothing stopping them from both being God,” Jo said. She used her higher vantage point on the bed to flick some popcorn at Dean, who was sitting on the ground with Cas. “According to our English teacher basically everything in this one poem is a metaphor for life. Why not have multiple metaphors for God?”

“Also, I said Anakin was Jesus,” Cas said. “More than Luke. Though this could, of course, lead to some very blasphemous interpretations of the Prequels.”

It was nearly midnight and they were all lounging around in front of the television. It was a sleepover movie marathon, courtesy of the last week of summer, with just the four of them. John had set out a bit earlier that day, but not before he managed to convince Ellen to let Jo stay over for the night. Since school hadn’t started yet Cas and Jo were still basically the only people Dean knew around here, but honestly? Best night he’s had in years.

“Blasphemous interpretations my ass,” Dean said. “Let’s watch another Die Hard!”

“We’re out of Die Hards, Dean,” Cas explained. “That’s why we’ve stopped watching them.”

“Pfft, there’s more junky action movies out there than Die Hard,” Jo said. “We’ll never run out.”

“Die Hard isn’t junk!” Dean said. “It’s a work of art!”

“Least it’s better than Dr. Sexy M.D.,” Sam muttered.

“You shut up,” Dean said. He felt his face heat up a bit. Sam could definitely be a little bitch sometimes.

Simultaneously, Jo asked, “Dr. Sexy M.D.? Dean watches Dr. Sexy M.D.?” The delight in her voice was unmistakeable.

“What’s Dr. Sexy M.D.?” Cas asked. Dean had to repress a little “srnk” at the way Castiel said “Dr. Sexy M.D.” as though that TV junk was a prime-time mystery of the universe.

“It is,” Jo starts, “the shittiest hospital show on TV and that is saying something.”

“Oh?” Dean turns to Jo to ask. “And how would you know if you’ve never seen it?”

“Hey, I’ve seen it,” Jo puts her hands up in mock surrender. “Unlike some people, I admit to enjoying hot mess media sometimes. I can enjoy action movies without going into full denial about how good they are.”

“But Die Hard is good,” Dean insists, “and I don’t watch Dr. Sexy M.D., doesn’t matter what Sam says-”

“Sam says,” Sam says, “that you do watch Dr. Sexy M.D., that, not only have I seen you watch Dr. Sexy M.D., I’ve seen your DVRs of it.”

Jo whooped. “Might as well turn your man card in now, Dean,” she teased.

Dean made an offended noise.

Cas blink. “Whats a ‘man card’?” He asked.

“Man card is a man’s masculinity,” Jo explained. “It’s so fragile that if they do anything feminine it just flies away.”

“And I still have my man card,” Dean said, “no matter what TV shows I watch. The whole idea of a man card is a joke, anyway.”

Castiel considered all this for a moment. He narrowed his eyes a bit and tilted his head to the side.

“Can I see an episode of Dr. Sexy M.D.?” Cas asked. “I don’t particularly care if I have a man card, and I’m sorta curious why someone would want to watch a bad TV show.”

Dean just looked at him for a moment.

“You know what?” He said. “Fuck it. You wanna watch Dr. Sexy M.D., let’s watch Dr. Sexy M.D.. This is a sleepover party, go big or go home. Jo, hand me that remote.”

Sam groaned and buried his face in his pillow. He, like Jo, had opted to actually lay down on a bed rather than just sitting on the floor. So Cas and Dean sat on the floor together, propped up against Dean’s bed and sitting on his comforter. The only part of them touching was their shoulders. It should be too hot and sweaty to touch another person in this heat, the coolness of the night wasn’t that cool in the summers here and the coolness of the AC in this motel was nada, but somehow it worked. It was a bit uncomfortable, to have a warmer spot where their shoulders met, but Dean and Cas both found themselves unwilling to move away.

“Too bad, Sammy,” Dean said. “Dr. Sexy M.D. marathon from the very beginning, here we go!”

“What, what!” Jo yelled. “Bring on the sexy doctor dudes!”

“I hope I made a good decision,” Cas intoned from beside Dean.

Dean looked over at him with a grin. “You made such a good decision,” he muttered to Cas.

Cas looked over back at Dean. Suddenly Cas’s eyes were inches from Dean’s own, staring wide and blue. A little buzz went through Dean.

“I hope so,” Cas whispered back. Those words made Dean realize exactly how close his lips were to Castiel’s, and he whipped his head around toward the TV. He cleared his throat.

“Here we go,” Dean said. He felt his face grow hotter than it had when Sam brought up his embarrassing TV habits, and he hoped to god that Cas wouldn’t notice. Why was this happening?

It took Dean  a few minutes to get into Dr. Sexy M.D., but Cas was delighted at it from the beginning. It had this campy humor that Castiel hadn’t even known he enjoyed, and he actually had a bit of fun listening to Sam critique the medical procedures. Apparently Sam had read all sorts of nonfiction books as well as fiction books, and he had a basic understanding of how hospitals are supposed to work that the writers of this show did not have. Every time some medical inaccuracy came up Sam would groan and complain, and Jo and Dean would team up to throw pillows at him and yell about artistic license.

Dean himself was enjoying relaxing and just letting himself watch Dr. Sexy M.D. for once. He was surprised to find that he trusted everyone in this room to understand and to not spread around that he watched it. Maybe it was the late night, maybe it was the laughter and friends, but Dean found himself able to put aside his self-consciousness and internal standards.

Of course, the best part about watching Dr. Sexy M.D. was seeing Cas watch it for the first time. Cas seemed to find humor in the strangest things and frown at all the actual jokes. When Dr. Sexy M.D. did a gag about nurses having a supernatural ability to sense when patients needed pudding? Nothing. When Dr. Sexy M.D. and Nurse Lucinda broke up for the third time? Hilarious.

“No, no, Dean, see, it’s the way they parallel the first two break-ups,” Cas tried to explain between bursts of laughter. “It makes us, as the audience, in the know about the fact that they're going to get back together! In an endless loop displaying the futility of human endeavor! It’s hilarious.”

“Yeah, I’m, I’m-” Dean shook his head. He was grinning, the laughter was contagious. “I’m just not seeing it, Cas.”

“It’s irony, Dean,” Cas said. “They think this is the end, and it’s killing them, but they’re going to make up again! It’s theatrical irony, as the audience knows something that the characters don’t.”

Dean started to giggle. It was around 2:30 in the morning.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he told Cas.

“You two are weird.” Jo commented from behind them. “Sam’s asleep.”

“Wha?” Dean asked. “Really?”

“Yeah, he’s been asleep for like, 30 minutes now? Maybe?” Jo said.

Cas froze up beside Dean.

“What time is it?” Cas asked, his voice lower than usual.

“It’s like, 2:30,” Jo said. “2:45. No, wait, just 2:35.”

Cas started to struggle his way out of their little blanket nest. Dean was very disgruntled by this, he had gotten very comfortable.

“I need to leave!” Cas said. “I need to get back! I needed to leave hours ago!”

“Cas,” Dean said. He rubbed his left eye. “Cas, it’s a sleepover party.”

“Not for me, Dean!” Cas insisted. “I don’t have permission to be here, I have to get up tomorrow!”

“Really?” Dean asked. “When?”

“8:30, Dean,” Castiel said. He was now looking for his socks and shoes. His socks in particular had mysteriously disappeared. “Socks.”

“8:3-?” Dean asked. “Jesus, your family are sadists. Just borrow some of mine, gotta be some in one of those drawers. I’ll walk with you. Jo, hold down the fort.”

Jo, who was now lying flat on her stomach with her head face down in a pillow, gave Dean a thumbs up.

A few confused minutes more and Dean and Cas were out the door. It was even worse outside, the humidity smacked them in the face as soon as they were outside the door. Still, they walked fairly near each other. Every couple seconds or so they brushed arms.

“Dude,” Dean said. “Why is it always so hot here?”

“It’s summer,” Cas stated, as if that completely explained it.

“Yeah, well, just because it’s summer doesn’t mean it has the right to be so damn hot,” Dean said. “I’ve been plenty of places in the US and every single one of them had a more temperature than this place does. Isn't this supposed to be the midwest? Southern summers aren't this bad!”

“Summers in the Midwest are still hot, Dean,” Cas said. “What do you expect?”

“I wasn’t expecting anything,” Dean said, “but this weather is just so overboard.”

“It seems fairly normal to me,” Cas said, “but then again, I haven’t traveled all that much. My father does, though.”

“Yeah,” Dean acknowledged. “My father travels more than we do, too.”

 _I’ve noticed,_ Castiel said in his mind. Out loud, he noted: “That must be a lot.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah,” he says, “it is.”

“What’s is it like?” Cas asked, before clarifying, “Moving around so much, I mean.”

“What do you think it’s like?” Dean asked.

The words sounded like they were an avoidance, but there was something honest to Dean’s tone. Castiel wasn’t the best lie detector in the world, but it sounded like this question was sincere. He decided to answer as though it was, anyway.

“I think some parts sound nice,” Cas said. “I’ve always wanted to see more of the world, even more of just America. It must give you some unique experiences, getting the feel of each place. It would be hard, though, to form long term relationships. That wouldn’t matter much for me anyway, I never really had any outside my family- before you, at least.” Cas paused for a moment. “My house has it’s problems, but I’m not sure I’d choose to travel to a different house every month rather than remain there. Relationships are one thing, but living that way, it seems like it would make putting down roots in a place, having a home at all in a way, hard.”

Dean was silent for a moment. He hadn’t been entirely sure what he’d meant when he asked Cas that question, but he was still thrown by the answer he’d got. There was real consideration to that question and, even not all of Cas’s guesses were right, there was honesty to all of it.

“Most of that’s right,” Dean said. “It’s hard, some things, and good, some other things. I gave up on the whole relationship, friendship thing, just part of learning to live with it. You’re wrong about that last thing though. Putting down roots in a place, yeah, I don’t really get to do that, and yeah, that sucks sometimes, but I have a home- I have Sammy. I have Dad, I have our car. And you know? It’s not home, but there’s something familiar about motels at this point- don’t laugh,” Cas wasn’t laughing at all, but Dean still felt the need to say that, “but traveling can be the same as putting down roots, sometimes. You get into the routine, you start seeing similarities in all the places, all the motels and all the schools, and it starts to be that same sorta day-to-day thing no matter where you are.”

“I’d never thought about that,” Cas said. “I think I can see what you mean though. I can understand on some level, if not fully. Still. That almost makes it sound as though you get all the drawbacks of having one place as a home and none of the benefits. You get the familiarity and the routine, but you don’t get the memories and places for just yourself, and maybe your brother. The things that make it home.”

“Do you have that, in your home?” Dean asked. “The kind memories, the places to share?”

“Some of it,” Cas said. “A bit of it, maybe. I get your point though. Do you get that with Sam?”

“Sam, yeah,” Dean said, “and, honestly? My Dad’s car. It’s this great ‘67 Impala and it’s like that, to me. It is home.”

“Maybe more than my home, I suppose,” Castiel said. Dean gave Cas a wondering glance at that. He waited for more information, but none came, and he didn’t ask. Cas seemed wrapped up in his own thoughts and memories.

“What are the similarities?” Cas did ask, after a few moments. “Between motels, schools, and places in general?”

“People are different wherever you go,” Dean said, “but the same, too. Everyone has their politeness for the new kid, everybody’s a bit strained. Some people are really friendly, but you can’t invest too much in that, and honestly it gets a bit tiring. There are different problems and social stuff everywhere, but you can’t get too invested in that, either. It gets to be sorta the same everywhere anyway, you know- got my own problems without all that shit you know. Keep with the dating, make a few friends, but it doesn’t really matter.”

Cas listened intently, but at the last few words his throat closed up. He could understand Dean wanting to keep connections few, everyone did what they had to to keep on going. Cas could be a friend, he could, but he didn’t realize that he would end up being such a short-term one. Castiel’s right hand started shaking, and he clenched it shut.

“Cas?” Dean asked. He felt a bit uncertain, all this was definitely more honest than he was used to. It was Cas, that was all, there was so much earnestness and honesty in those big blue eyes, it was like he could stare the truth right out of anyone. Dean cursed it those blue eyes silently as he asked, uncertainly, “You still there, buddy?”

“Yes,” Cas managed to find his voice. It didn’t quite come out right. “I’m fine, just. I am all for being a friend, Dean, you know-”

“Shit!” Dean just realized what he had said. “I didn’t mean that, well, I did, but not about you. It’s different this time, okay? Y- This place, it’s different. It means a lot more.”

“It does?” Cas asked. He didn’t understand. It might be his hometown, but there wasn’t anything really special about this town. Cas glanced around, looking into artificial lights of the streetlights peer into the stores on either side of them. The view would be turning suburban soon, they had just passed Grant St. The night certainly made this place look different. No one was out besides the occasional cars, and the shadows seemed to add more to some of these buildings then daylight did. Still, at most this place was more off and unsettling at night, not more special. No one else was around besides them. Cas unconsciously moved a bit closer to Dean.

“Sure it does,” Dean said. Honestly this time seemed common as a penny to him. Sure, it probably had its special little things for all the locals and tourists, but none of it seemed all that special to Dean. Dean wasn’t about to admit what he really liked about this place, though. “You might have people saying there are tons of Midwestern towns like this, homey little gems or whatever. But you know, there’s just a- a _feel_ to this place that’s unique.”

“A feel,” Cas repeated. What on Earth was Dean talking about?

“Yeah, you know, _a feel_ ,” Dean could’ve been a professional improv actor. “Every place has a feel to it, and this place- this place has a good one. Trust me on that, if there’s one thing growing up on the run teaches you it’s how to read the feel of a place.”

“A good one?” Cas asked. “Well, I suppose that could be right. It’s been a fairly pleasant town to grow up in, everyone is very nice. And things are very pretty in the daytime, I suppose.”

Dean glances over to Cas, who catches his eye and stares right back. Even in the intense orange of the streetlights Cas’s eyes were visibly blue. They were darker, the ring around the outside of his irises nearly black, but the clear light blue in his eyes still shone. Dean clears his throat.

“You know, things are sort of pretty by night, too,” Dean said. He cleared his throat again and gestures to the buildings with a hand, as though those were what he had been talking about. “You know. Graceful, uh, mysterious dignity to them, in the nighttime.”

Cas hums and tilts his head to look around them a bit more. He looks back at Dean and smiles.

“You are entirely correct, Dean.” Cas said. “There’s beauty here that I just hadn’t noticed.” He continues to look at Dean for several moments longer, the same light smile on his face. The shops had given out to suburbs at this point in their walk. The streetlamps were spaced further out, giving Dean and Cas more darkness to keep to themselves.

Dean was glad for that darkness as he breaks Castiel’s stare. He was certain that his face was red. He hoped the night would give him a little privacy there. Castiel didn’t take much note of Dean’s awkwardness, opting instead to enjoy the silence of walking beside him.

“We’re nearing my home,” Cas noted.

“Think you’ll need some help getting back up the tree?” Dean asked.

“I believe so,” Cas said. He didn’t actually know if the help was necessary, but he wanted it anyway. “Here we are.” They turned up the driveway for Castiel’s house and walked up the side yard.

Dean gave Cas a little boost up when they got to the trees. Dean kept his hands on Cas long enough to make sure that he was stable in his hold on the branches. Dean’s hands felt like spots of warmth and support on the exposed sliver of skin left at the bottom of Cas’s t-shirt.

After some rustling branches and grunting Cas got to the roof of the porch. He leaned over to look back down at Dean.

“I got up, Dean,” Cas said.

“I can see that, Cas,” Dean said.

“Good-night, Dean,” Cas said. He started to stand up, when Dean called up to him.

“Hey! Cas! Wait a moment!” Dean hissed up, wanting to shout but knowing that he had to be quiet. Cas paused and looked at him. “Um. I just wanted to say, it’s not really- it’s not just the place that’s special, Cas. It’s, you know, the people here. You’re- you’re pretty great, Cas, and I hope to stay friends with you even after- for a while. I just wanted to say that.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said gravely. Dean couldn’t see how large Cas’s smile was in the dark. “I- I want to be friends with you for a long time, as well.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. “Goodnight, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas said. “I hope you have pleasant dreams.”

* * *

 

## Now

It’s Uriel and Alastair who are with Castiel when they run into Dean’s little posse or, more accurately, when Dean and his friends run into them.

Uriel and Alastair are the ones actually putting up posters, Castiel has been relegated to bag and poster holding duty. He supposes that this is the reflection of some hierarchy in which Castiel is at the bottom, but he doesn’t particularly care about that. Cas also tunes out Uriel and Alastair’s conversation, preferring to hum to himself and consider his newest composition and upcoming homework. He stops humming when he sees Dean turn the corner of the street, three of his friends walking with him.

Dean’s group are engaged in some active conversation, making them all speak happily and animatedly. Cas looks away from them as they come up the street, hoping that they’ll pass quickly and without comment.

He isn’t quite so lucky.

As they pass by Uriel grabs one of the posters from Castiel’s arms and shoves it at the one on the right, who appears to be playfully arguing with Dean about some names that Cas doesn’t recognize. The student, Dean calls him Victor, takes the poster absent-mindly, his freshman taking-things instincts working on automatic. Unfortunately, after taking it, Victor actually looks at it. Cas’s heart sinks as Victor stops in his tracks.

“Something up?” Dean asks Victor.

Victor turns around completely to face them. Uriel and Alastair look up toward him.

“I’m sorry, but what the hell is this?” Victor asks.

“We’re making use of our religious freedom,” Uriel says, “to promote an end to a few of the more godless activities promoted by the University’s administration. Promoted using our money.”

“‘Promoted’?” Victor aks. “What the hell are they promoting? All they’re doing is offering resources to help _all_ of their students. I guess you’d have them just ignore the ‘godless’ students, then? I mean, it’s not like we pay tuition too.”

Cas watches as Dean and his other friends, Benny and a student Cas doesn’t know, gather around Victor to read the flier. Dean’s heart hammers as he reads it, a sinking feeling in his stomach. As the others make noises of disgust, Dean looks up at Castiel, a question in his express. Cas keeps his own face blank. He doesn’t owe Dean any answers.

“Oh, I’m sure the University takes your money just fine,” Alastair says. “They wouldn’t be the first one to sell out morality.”

“And whose morality are they selling out?” Benny asks. He’s standing behind Victor, he and Garth, looking like backup. Dean is standing to the side of Benny, feeling weirdly outside all of this and trying to get a glimpse of anything in Cas’s face.

“The only one there is,” Uriel states. “God’s morality.”

It used to be that Cas would flinch at words like that, out of doubt and guilt.

“Oh, and I suppose God just flew His way down from heaven just to bestow you, and only you, with a clear and definite explanation as to what His morality is,” Victor doesn’t need to roll his eyes with that tone of voice. “You’re just that special.”

“That special in their bigotry, maybe,” Garth says, shaking his head. “God doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

Uriel takes a few steps forwards at that. Alastair follows. Castiel stands upright, tensing at the escalation. He isn’t sure what he’s tensing for, he has no idea what he would do were a fight to break out, but a the signs of conflict he automatically tries to ready himself.

“You wouldn’t know God if he did come down from heaven,” Uriel says. “You would be too cowardly and weak to face the truth, to sinful to bear the sight of him. Judgement will come for you.” Uriel continues to walk forward as he speaks, until he’s only about a foot away from Victor, Benny and Garth. None of them move a step, Victor only crosses his arms.

“Judgement will come from you, maybe,” Victor says calmly, “but I’ve been judged by people like you before. I’ll survive.”

“We can get people together, take all these down,” Garth suggests. “Put up LGBT campus resource fliers over them.” He turns to Uriel and Alastair to say more. “You won’t get much support for this, ya know, this is an accepting campus.”

“We do not need support to do what’s right,” Uriel says.

“You’re just true martyrs, aren’t you,” Victor says. His voice is cold.

To Castiel’s surprise Benny actually turns to him.

“I knew Dean didn’t like you much, but I had a thought that you were better than this,” Benny tells him. “Cas, man, you really want to stand with them?” Benny makes a dismissive gesture at Uriel and Alastair.

Castiel is completely thrown. He blinks at Benny. Anxiety, fed by a number of other nasty emotions, blossoms in his stomach and claws it’s way up to form a lump in his throat. He didn’t think anyone would bother to acknowledge him in this exchange. He recognizes Dean’s friend, Benny, from his English class, and supposes that’s why. He doesn’t know how to feel about that.

Castiel stays silent. He just leans his head to the side and stares. Uriel speaks for him.

“My cousin doesn’t need your corruption,” Uriel seethes. “Come on, Castiel. I think this particular pole is done.” He turns to walk off. Alastair and, after just a moment, Castiel follows. Dean watches Cas go, his own insides strangely hollow.

“Well, that sure was a nasty bunch!” Garth remarks.

“Yeah,” Victor turns to Dean, and says, “If one of them is the dude in your English class I can see why you think he’s such an asshole.”

“I know!” Benny says. “He doesn’t even seem that bad in class. Dean must be the asshole whisperer.”

“Your asshole senses tingling?” Victor asks, giving Dean a nudge. Then he laughs, “Woah, that did not come out right.”

“No kidding,” Dean agrees. He smiles weakly. He’s still thrown by the encounter, and somehow he can’t get the unreadable look on Cas’s face after Benny’s question out of his head. Cas was basically just confirmed as an asshole in front of his friends, so really this should be a victory for Dean.

Yet it’s not. Dean looks over his shoulder as both groups leave, going opposite directions. He can’t make sense of the turmoil in his stomach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really enjoyed writing their "Then" conversation. I really think their relationship should be based off of closeness and understanding. As I write their relationship coming into being, in the "Then" section, I want to write that. Also, the group discussion of masculinity from a couple of young teens is as realistic as I can make it, having been in those conversations.
> 
> Author's Note: It would be nice to just lock the two of them in a room together and see if I can write out they're issues, but for this fic I decided against it. These two are gonna have to just work out their own issues at their own pace, even if that pace turns out to be excruciatingly slowly. 
> 
> And in the meantime, during Now, Dean and Cas will both have friends, or "friends", who will just keep on existing.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean and Cas hung out in Cas’s bedroom. 
> 
> Now Dean tries to give Cas a second chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, with Thanksgiving and everything I nearly forgot to post this chapter, but I got it in in the end!
> 
> Happy thanksgiving, everyone!

##  Then

“So what’s up with your school shit, then?” Dean asked. “That fancy religious private school’s certainly given you alotta homework for the first day.”

Dean had asked to come over and at least see Castiel’s room, and Cas had agreed under the conditions that Dean would be willing to speak quietly and get shoved into Cas’s closet at a moment’s notice. Cas had his new school books and homework spread out across the floor of his room, for cover and so that he can at least try to work on it. He has his usual study music on as well, turned up as loudly as he can get away with to hide their conversation. Dean thought the recorded music, symphony or no, sounded like a poor substitute for Cas’s playing to him.

His mother generally doesn’t check Castiel’s room very much, not as much as the others, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. Dean is sprawled across Cas’s bed as they discuss the day, absentmindedly flipping through one of Cas’s math books, possibly even reading bits of it as they discuss the first day of school. The very idea of one of Cas’s family members seeing the scene turns his stomach with fear. 

“Maybe a bit more than last year.” Cas admitted. “Not all of this is due soon, I want to have an idea of what my courses are like. School is fine. Anneal and Gabriel have reconnected with their old friends.”

“What about your old friends?” Dean asked after a pause. He suspected that he knew the answer, but it still caused a ripple of helpless anger in him to hear it. 

“I don’t truly have any,” Cas said. It was a simple statement, it didn’t pain him to admit it anymore. “I’m on good terms with people in several of my classes, I often partner with them to do projects, but we don’t... talk.”

“That’s bullshit,” Dean said. “You’re awesome, Cas. People should be lining up to be your friend.” Dean of all people knew that this wasn’t how popularity worked, but it still seemed off to him that no one should realize how kind, smart, and loyal Cas was. Cas should at least have gotten a few friends. 

“Perhaps I’m the one who doesn’t reach out to them,” Cas suggested. It was true. There were two parties needed to make a friendship, and when it came to Castiel and his peers no one seemed willing to reach out. “I believe you yourself have suggested that it is easier not to make friends.” 

“That’s ‘cause I leave, Cas,” Dean said. “There’s no point to making a whole relationship that’s gonna be cut short. But you’ve stayed in one place for your whole life, right?” Dean turned his head to Cas. His words could’ve been a critique, but there was an honest curiosity behind them. Concern, not reproach. “What are you afraid of?”

Castiel was quiet. He looked at his bedroom floor. “I haven’t really thought about it. It was always just what seemed easiest.”

Dean waited for Cas to say more. After a minutes more of thought, Cas did. He spoke slowly, hesitatingly. 

“I’ve always wondered how Anna and Gabe managed it, actually,” Cas said. “We’re not really... encouraged to talk to each other at home. It can be better, I think, to not talk to anyone in my family. I suppose it just became a bit of a habit.”

Dean closed his eyes. He felt very tired. Cas waited, heart beating just a little bit harder than usual, for Dean’s response. 

“Yeah.” Dean said. Cas was quiet. “I understand.”

Cas shuffles around a few of the papers in front of him. The current track playing on the speaker ends, and the room goes quiet. 

“Why’d you speak to me, then?” Dean asked. 

“Well,” Cas said, “you were a possible thief having a picnic on the front lawn of my church. I was curious. I honestly didn’t set off to make friends.”

Dean snorts. The next song begins to play. 

“It’s true!” Cas insisted. 

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean said. “Doesn’t mean it’s not funny.”

Dean closed the book and set it aside. He rolled over to face the back of Cas’s head, as Cas leaned against the bed. Aside from the papers Castiel’s room is meticulously clean, all organized and tidy. A few instruments all in their cases, the music all stacked neatly on the shelves. Even the colors of the walls are clean and clear, a bright turqoise that goes well with Cas’s green bedspread. Dean found the colors and organization of the room relaxing, but it made him insecure about his own living space at the same time. 

“You’re a year behind me in math, ya know,” Dean said. 

“Am I?” Cas asked. “I’m taking advanced classes. You must be quite talented, Dean.”

“Well, one day of English and I already know I’m going to fail, so maybe not,” Dean said. He hadn’t really been expecting that response, but he probably should have seen it coming from Cas. It was sincere, too, knowing Cas. 

“I could try help you in English, if you want.” Before Dean had a chance to argue with this idea Cas continued. “So,” Cas asked. “What else is going on at your high school besides English and math, Dean?” 

“Boring teachers, boring teenagers, pushy administrators,” Dean said. “Same old, same old. Pretty girls though. That part of high school’s gonna be fun, eh, Cas?”

Cas turned around toward Dean and raised his eyebrows. Girls hadn’t even been considered in his plans for high school, and he wasn’t sure he approved of them so clearly figuring into Dean’s.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Dean said. “We can get you a girlfriend, too. Friends or not you’re a nice-looking guy, Cas. Bet I can hook you up with a date.”

“Somehow that doesn’t really sound appealing,” Cas intoned. He turned away from Dean, back to his papers.

“Now you’re just being grumpy,” Dean said. “No one’s gonna force you to date, it’s just a bit of fun.” Dean remembered his morning, and he grinned. “I know what’ll cheer you up.”

“And what would that be?” Castiel asked. 

“Dad gave me some news about out plans,” Dean said in a nearly sing-song voice. Cas took interest at that, he turned around completely to give Dean his full attention. 

“Do tell,” Cas implored. Dean gave him a smile.

“I,” Dean said, “Dean Winchester, along with my brother, Sam Winchester, am staying here in this very town for  _ at the very least  _ the rest of the school year  _ and  _ next summer.” 

Cas nearly yelled with joy before he remembered he wasn’t supposed to be speaking with anyone in his room, especially not the boy kicked out of a church group this summer.

“Dean!” He said in a stage-whisper shout, as that was the best he could do. He got up to his knees and leaned toward Dean, even grabbed Dean’s arm in excitement. “That’s awesome! That- that is one gift from God.” 

Dean blushed and grinned, utterly pleased at this response to his news. Cas’ eyes were wide with excitement. Cas’ face, usually sober or subtle in its expressions, was flushed and filled with a huge smile. 

“There’s so much we’ll get to do, Dean!” Cas continued. “You’ll be able to give me that comprehensive lesson in the good points of the classics of modern music, as you promised, I’ll be able to show you the town square during Christmas, oh, spring is the loveliest season here, if you don’t have allergies, I’m so glad you’ll get to see it-”

“Not to mention that now I’ll be sure to be around for Halloween,” Dean said. 

“Halloween?” Cas asked. “Oh. I didn’t think of that. I’ve never celebrated Halloween before, we’re not allowed to. Father says that it’s the devil’s holiday.”

“Devil’s holiday? Seriously?” Dean asked. He shook his head. “Well, it is a damn good thing that I’ll be sure to be here because you, my friend, are missing out. We are going to have the best fucking Halloween ever this year.” 

“Dean.” Cas said. Dean’s name was only a syllable, but Castiel found it to be a pleasant one. He felt as though it was often just behind his lips, even when Dean himself was not around. “I am so happy that you are staying. I could just dance.”

“Really?” Dean asked. The way Dean’s face animated when he smiled like this, when he smiled fully and entirely, was just wonderful. Cas wanted to memorize the way his freckles moved when he grinned and the light behind the green in his eyes. “You know, I know what you can do. To celebrate, and to congratulate me, and all that.”

“What?” Cas asked. 

“Play me something,” Dean said. “On the violin, guitar, bass, whatever- just play me something.”

“It’s actually a cello, Dean,” Cas corrected, “but you know what? I most definitely will.” Cas got up and crossed the room to turn off his speakers. He turned back toward Dean. “Just for you, Dean Winchester. Tonight I’ll play it just for you.”

* * *

 

##  Now

Dean arrives fifteen minutes early to his English lecture. There Cas is, at the very back of the room, like always. Dean walks up to him immediately. He wants a chance to talk to Cas before any more people, especially Benny, come in.

He just can’t forget the absolute expressionlessness of Cas’s face. Cas had given Dean many blank looks when they were teenagers, but those were looks of surprise or confusion. This new look of guarded nothingness in Cas’ stare is something Dean has only seen since his and Cas’s college reunion or whatever. The look, the lack of sympathy in his friends, the way Cas looked away from him, and the way Dean knew that he’s hiding the same as Cas is has continued to bother Dean.

It had taken Dean a bit to figure out why he isn’t mad at Cas like his friends are. Eventually he’d figured it out. Dean’s friends are awesome and liberal and somehow very gay, but if they hadn’t been? If his friends had turned out to be homophobic as all get out? Dean might be in the very same position Cas is in, even without his family forcing him into it. And Dean was absolutely certain that Cas’s family had a hand in his current friends.

After a few days with the incident still on his mind Dean had decided to talk to Cas about it, to have someone show him sympathy, so here he is. 

Cas has spread his papers around himself in the same organized semi-circle that Dean remembers. He jumps a bit when Dean says his name.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean says. “I, uh.” It’s hard to think of exactly what he wants to say, now that he’s right here and Cas is looking up at him reproachfully. “I just wanted to say, you know, it’s okay. That you’re with the group, even though they're a bit... Closed minded, and all. You do what you need to do. I get it.” 

“You get it.” Cas repeats, now intentionally blank faced. He leans back and stares up at Dean.

“Yeah, I mean,” Dean says. He felt the words “you know” behind his lips, but he couldn’t say them. Saying “you know” to Cas would be admitting that Cas did know, that Dean and Cas both knew that something had happened. Dean himself is a bit too invested in not admitting that. “I just... I know, okay?”

“You know.” Castiel repeats again. Dean’s words inspire a boiling pot of emotions in Cas’s stomach, and for some reason it’s anger that rises to the top. Castiel doesn’t need Dean’s pity. When he continues it’s with a caustic edge. “You know, Mr. Winchester, I’m not really sure that it’s your place to declare your knowledge of my life. You know only your own experiences, not mine, and I’d appreciate that you not- that you not project your own issues and feelings onto me. I’m not even sure what it is that _you_ _know_ , Mr. Winchester, and I wouldn’t presume to make any assumptions, besides the fact that whatever it is isn’t ‘getting’ what I feel.” Castiel pauses. He finally breaks eye-contact to look down at his own papers. “Why don’t you return to your own seat, Winchester.” It’s not a question.

Dean is speechless for a moment. Whatever response he had expected from his attempt to reach out and sympathize, this had not been it. Cas is pissed for some fucking reason, and Dean smarts with how unreasonable Cas’s anger toward him is. Nothing Dean has said recently lead him to deserve that, in Dean’s very own opinion, and Cas has no right to be angry about him for what happened back then. Cas was the one who fucking left. Cas was the one who ended it, not him. 

“Fuck you,” Dean says when he gets his voice back. “I was just trying to be fucking- fucking helpful, okay? Sympathetic and all that shit.”

“Well, next time, maybe don’t be,” Cas suggests. He looks up at Dean. “I think I’ve made it fairly clear that you are not, in fact, helpful, so why are you still here?”

“I actually attend this class too, you know,” Dean says. He crosses his arms and leans on one foot. He doesn’t look any closer to leaving. “I can’t just skip lectures because some asshole tells me to.”

“Don’t you have somewhere else to sit, at least?” Cas looks up again. Eyes slightly squinted, but it’s clear that they’re not squinted out of confusion. Still, Dean is reminded of Cas’s adorable looks of confusion, and getting such a similar expression from Cas in sarcasm and anger twists Dean’s stomach. Dean doesn’t exactly have a comeback, though, he just flips Cas the bird and turns to walk away.

After turning Dean sees that Benny has arrived, and that he’s sitting and watching them from his and Dean’s usual seats with eyebrows raised. As Dean walks over and sits down Benny continues to give him a look. Dean isn’t quite sure what his impression of that interaction is, or how much of that interaction Benny saw at all. 

“I can’t tell exactly what you were looking for, confronting him like that,” Benny says. “Did you get it? What’d you even say?”

“Um,” Dean manages. He isn’t sure exactly what to tell Benny, but years of lying instincts come in handy. “Just felt bad about not saying much the other day, so I thought I could maybe go and talk to him by himself. Thought that might be more productive, you know?” That last bit was true, at least.

“You thought that you could just talk separately to the one homophobe that you’ve already created a petty rivalry with,” Benny questions, “and that this would... what? Show him?”

“Hey, I could be an ally,” Dean says, putting a bit of indignation into his misdirection. He’s not quite sure what he’s misdirecting from, but he’s misdirecting alright.

“Brother, you’re not even signed up for ally training,” Benny argues. Luckily he seems more amused at Dean’s illogical train of thought than doubting Dean’s version of the story. 

The mention of ally training gives Dean an idea. He looks back at Cas, who’s just a head of dark hair looking down, and strain of pettiness runs through Dean. Cas has just no fucking right to be pissed, especially now that he’s apparently thrown his lot completely in with the next generation of, essentially, his own toxic parents. 

Well, fine. If Cas wants to throw his lot in with the bigots and then get pissy when Dean tries to throw him a bone despite this, then Dean can do the opposite. See if Cas likes it. Dean turns back around toward Benny.

“You know,” Dean says, “I think I was wrong about that. I don’t really know what to do when it comes to being an ally, but I could learn. Think there’s still be time to sign up?”

“Sure,” Benny says, “glad to hear it. What’s with the change of heart?”

“Well,” Dean explains, “I think that my conversations with Cas there have been pretty illuminating. Pretty sure I’d rather follow in my friends’ footsteps than  _ his. _ ”

“Not every single person who don’t go to ally training is like them,” Benny says, “but I take your point. It’s good of you to do, Dean.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. He glares behind his chair at Cas again, this time getting a cold look back. This would only be the start, Dean promises himself. He doesn’t owe Cas anything, and he’s gonna get back at the fucker. Somehow, even though Cas doesn’t really seem to care what Dean does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Castiel, I do love him, but he is not in a good emotional place right now. This doesn't justify anything, but the reason he's only lashing out because of his own emotional pain. He has a ways to go. He's dealing with things pretty badly, and he's doing so in a pretty human way. His good-at-heart-ness is a lot more on display Then rather than Now. 
> 
> Also, wow is Dean not the master of revenge. I mean, Cas does care, a lot more than he wants to care, but there isn't even any guarantee that he'll learn about Dean going? Really, this is a highly questionable plan.
> 
> Also, I really love writing interactions between high school Dean and Cas best. Loooook at them, so cute and adoring. So young and yet already with screwed up lives.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Lucifer was kicked out of his reform school.
> 
> Now Dean and Castiel both try to prepare for the same day in two very different ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I broke 1000 hits these past few days! Wow. Anyway, this chapter should definitely be on time.
> 
> Warning for some toxic family dynamics/interactions in the "Then" section. There's also some sibling solidarity against this, both loud and silent.   
> Hope you... enjoy is not really the right word. Hope you find the chapter engaging, perhaps?

##  Then

Lucifer came back within three months. Naomi just announced that he would be arriving soon, that he’d be attending public school, and that none of them were to talk to him over the dinner table. 

The reaction to this was mixed. Gabriel definitely gave the dinner table at large some frustrated, doubting looks, but he didn’t say anything. Michael nodded. Castiel simply continued to eat and tried his hardest to stare down only at his food. It was Anna who spoke. 

“Why?” She asked. Naomi looked at her, showing nothing but calm regard.  

“He has yet to leave his days of sinning and crime behind,” Naomi said. “He has gotten himself into trouble and we have been left to bail him out. He has decided to stretch familial obligations to their limits, and it’s time he faced some consequences for that.”

“I’m sorry,” Anna said. Castiel tensed and stared even harder at his peas. No good could come of a statement with a pre-apology. “Wasn’t this supposed to be the consequence? Military school? Maybe he needs something other than consequences.”

“Are you telling me how I should parent?” Naomi asked. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you disrespecting me?”

“I only want to be helpful-” Anna tried to explain. 

“You have failed at that,” Naomi said. “Lucifer had more than consequences. From the beginning he had the love and effort of his parents and the Lord. He has squandered that. Do not follow in his footsteps.” Her voice lowered from the final statement. 

A silence fell after that. 

“I am sorry if I overstepped,” Anna said. The lines around her mouth and the grip on her fork said she was lying. 

“God will forgive you, I’m sure,” Naomi said. The implied question of whether or not she would remained unanswered. “You can not simply say whatever you like to your mother or father, however. You must respect us, our knowledge and experience. I think you’re finished with dinner. Go to your room.” 

They had only recently started dinner. Castiel read the situation in quick, fugitive glances upward. Anna was looking regretfully at her plate, and Naomi was staring her down. With slow reluctance Anna put down her fork. Castiel prayed that she would remember what happened when they disobeyed direct orders. 

“Fine,” Anna said quietly. The use of a word for casual agreement was a deliberate slight, barely toeing the line. She stood up, her chair scraping noise tearing the silence. She left, and went upstairs. 

Naomi sat down. 

“I have further announcements to make about our the upcoming charity auction,” Naomi said casually. It was like Anna had never sat down for dinner in the first place. The rest of dinner continued normally. Castiel continued to look down at his plate. His hands were trembling.

Castiel put his right hand on the table. He wondered how noticeable it would be if he just pressed it against the tablecloth, tried to steady it against the solid wood underneath. He clenched it instead. 

He didn’t really expect someone to reach over and put their hand over his. Castiel looked up at Gabriel, who squeezed his hand and gave what was meant to be a reassuring smile. Castiel tried to give one right back. 

After a few moment, as Naomi continued on with occasional ad-ins from Michael, Gabriel removed his hand. Still, Castiel’s hand felt more steady than it had been before. He appreciated the comfort. 

Castiel took steady breaths and didn’t speak for the rest of dinner. As he sat there at the table made for eight, in a family of seven, with three missing chairs, he couldn’t bring himself to. The conversation continued easily without him, though, as he never really contributed much. Right now Castiel was glad for that. He felt too suffocated to speak, and empty of things to say. 

He thought he’d walk to Dean’s tonight. They hadn’t been planning anything, but Cas wanted to see him. 

* * *

 

##  Now

“You sure about this, brother?” Benny asks. “It’s really not required. It’s good, it’s educational and it’s definitely a little bit extra toward being a good person, but it ain’t required that you go to official ally training to be an ally.”

“Dude, yeah, I’m sure,” Dean says. “Why’re you even asking? You jumped up on this quick enough, and you’re not doubting.”

“It’s just that ya seem a bit...” Benny considers his working, “nervous.”

“Why would I be nervous?” Dean asks. “I’m not nervous.”

Benny raises his eyebrows. “Really.”

“Okay, okay…” Dean sighs. “I am nervous, but isn’t that more reason to go? I’m gonna want to be a good ally to our floor friends, right?” Convincing enough. Definitely not what a closeted bisexual trying to get back at his asshole ex and said ex’s homophobic friends would say.

“Well that’s decent of you,” Benny says. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. Garth was so excited when I let him know that you would be coming too.”

“Oh.” Oh god, Dean really wouldn’t be able to back out, would he? He tries to muster up enthusiasm that doesn’t reflect his actually emotional state. “That’s great!” 

He wonders if Cas ever has to fake enthusiasm. Probably not. Given the people he’s living with, Cas probably doesn’t have a reason to even fake enthusiasm.

Across campus Castiel, well, he isn’t faking enthusiasm. 

“It’s just that my professor has office hours,” Castiel explains. 

“This isn’t an optional activity, Castiel, this is an important part of our mission this semester,” Uriel says. “We all have to be there.”

“Is Balthazar going to be there?” Castiel asks. It’s not very much of an argument, but perhaps-

“Actually, he’s at least claimed that he’ll help us prepare,” Uriel says, “after some urging from his own parents, at least. None of us expect very much from him, though. Surely your mother would expect more of you.”

Castiel sighs internally. His mother. Of course she has to come up. Uriel is probably reporting his every move to his mother, and getting family influence in the process.

“My mother would want me to have excellent academics,” Castiel says. He can’t be there, not with Meg, and possibly even Dean, in the same place as his roommates.

“Do you have any problem with your academics?” Uriel asks. “Is there a real issue with your work, that you have to go to this particular day of office hours with your professor for?” 

Castiel considers trying to lie, and make up an exam or upcoming event that he might need to ask questions about. Except that then Uriel will want to know about that, and Castiel can’t really afford to be caught lying. Maybe it’s time to accept the inevitable, what is always inevitable with his family- even, it seems, his cousins- and give in. 

“No,” Castiel says. “I just thought it would be a good idea.”

“Well, helping out with mandatory house programs is a better one,” Uriel says. “You’ll be there.” It’s not a question.

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. He lets detachment overcome his fear. It doesn’t really matter. He can lose Meg, he wasn’t planning to have friends coming into college anyway. “I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, Castiel just has a really shitty life sometimes. Hard times, they happen. 
> 
> Also, Dean making quick decision while angry does not always turn out well for him, but he's not the type to back out.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas and Dean talked about family and school, and Cas became Dean’s English tutor.
> 
> Now Castiel runs into the last person he wants to run into here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues. I particularly like how this chapter turned out, I think, especially the Then part.
> 
> Warnings for homophobia in the Now part.

##  Then

“Honestly, Cas, I’m never gonna get this shit,” Dean said. He had his head flat on his English textbook, right cheek sticking to the page. 

“Not if you treat the book like that,” Cas retorted. He took the opportunity to ruffle Dean’s hair a bit. He sat down on the chair across from Dean. 

“Stoppit, my hair’s too greasy to mess with,” Dean grumbled. He groaned and rolled his head over a bit to look flat into the page. “Don’t want to.” He picked up his head. “How’d you even find me?”

It was a rainy Saturday afternoon, and Dean was set up on one of the back tables of the public library. Castiel was unexpected, he must have pretended to study and snuck out or been sent to do chores. It was still a mystery how he knew to look for Dean here- Sam was the one who haunted the library in his free time, and even he was doing that less now that school was back on. Dean was just here out of desperation. He had been trying to start, just  _ start _ , this English paper for a week and he had nothing. 

“Sam told me,” Cas said. “He seemed a bit disappointed that you did not wait to take him with you.”

“Sam’s back?” Dean asked. “Thought that group project would take him another couple hours at least. I left him a note telling him to call me.”

“He has called you,” Cas said. He took a seat next to Dean and plopped his computer bag down beside him. “Multiple times, in fact. Your phone is either silent or dead, and you never silence that thing, so it must be dead. He was just starting to worry when I dropped by.”

“Oh, shit,” Dean said. He sat up quickly and started rummaging through his pockets for his phone. “You better text him.”

“Already done.” Cas stated. “Why are you here, Dean?”

“English shit got hard,” Dean said. “Why’re  _ you  _ here, Cas?”

“It was an escape,” Cas explained. “Lucifer came to the house high. Again. I went up to my room to study, I don’t think they’ll check on me for a while. They all seemed rather... preoccupied.” 

“Shit.” Dean said. “Again? High? I thought his problems were with alcohol.” That, at least, was something Dean was familiar with.

Castiel sighed. He put his hands on the table and felt the urge to put his head down on the table, to mimic Dean’s earlier pose. 

“He’s branching out,” he said. He didn’t say anything more, Cas didn’t know much more anyway. He wasn’t truly involved, and there was nothing he could do; Cas was just a witness. 

There was a moment of silence as Dean tried to decide what to respond with. 

“Is Lucifer... alright?” Dean asked. “I mean, is he getting worse?”

“Probably,” Cas admitted. “Though he would say the same about the rest of the family.”

“Cas...” Dean trailed off. He glanced around the empty shelves before looking Cas in the eye. “Are  _ you  _ alright? Really alright?”

“Nothing happens to me _ ,  _ Dean,” Cas said. “There isn’t- there isn’t any reason for me not to be alright. Anna is the one grounded for dating. Lucifer is the one with the drug problem. Gabriel is the one lashing out with tricks and pranks and getting into trouble at school. Michael is the one under pressure. My mother is- my mother. But nothing’s happening to me. I’m not- you don’t get... involved, in these things, in my family. Mother deals with them or they aren’t- we don’t talk about them. But I’m fine. Grades are good. Nothing is happening.  _ I’m fine. _ ”

Dean stayed quiet for a moment after Cas’s monologue. 

“You know,” Dean says quietly, “when you have to repeat the words ‘I’m fine’ more than once when no one said that you weren’t, well, then, you’re probably not fine.”

Cas put his head into his hands. He took in a ragged breath. 

“There’s no reason for me not to be fine,” Cas said. “I’m doing well in school. My music is there, talent growing with practice as always. Mother is never really angry at me. I’m perfectly functional, Dean.” For this last remark Cas looked up to meet Dean’s eyes again. It wasn’t Cas’s usual certain stare.

“Cas, you don’t,” Dean said, “I mean, the reason doesn’t matter, sorta- I’m bad at this. Cas. It just. It seems to me like you’ve got plenty of reasons not to be fine and it’s okay, you know, if you’re not- I mean, it’s not okay, but it’s okay with me- SHIT. No, that’s not what I mean...”

Cas watched Dean with growing amusement. Tears still pricked at his eyes, trying to get out, and his whole body felt a bit shaky and weak, but a smile twitched on his lips for a moment as he watched the boy across from him. 

“Cas, I just want to say, I’m there,” Dean managed finally. “Whatever you want to do, whatever will make you feel better, I’m there.” 

Dean looked straight into Castiel’s eyes, leaning forward a bit with earnestness. His green eyes were wide open- honest and vulnerable enough to make Cas’s breath catch in his throat, even if Dean’s words weren’t enough to do that on their own. Cas felt himself automatically lean toward Dean, even though his own head was spinning a bit too much for him to reply. 

The words replayed themselves in Castiel’s head. “Whatever you want to do.” For a wild moment Cas wanted desperately to tell Dean that what he wanted was for Dean to kiss him. The words went so far as to catch in his throat, and Cas looked down with a blush. He felt embarrassed and ashamed. Here was Dean making a true declaration of support and friendship, and what did Castiel want to say in response?  _ That? _

Cas pulled back. He put his hands into his lap and clenched his fists. He couldn’t meet Dean’s eyes, and it was just another moment in his life when words failed him. 

“Cas?” Dean asked. 

The quiet question seemed to force Cas’s eyes upward despite himself. Again he found himself looking in those same beautiful green eyes, framed by freckles like the moon surrounded by stars. This time, though, they were worried as well as open. 

“Thank you.” Cas whispered. “Dean. Thank you.” 

At that Dean smiled and sat back in his chair. He continued to smile at Cas, not saying a word, with something more to his expression that Cas couldn’t name. Cas gave a small smile in return, and they sat like that for a few moments. 

“Dean,” Cas said, “I think what I want to do is help you with your essay. And then, if there’s time, I’d like to watch a movie.”  _ I’d like to watch a movie sitting on the floor of your room, pressed up against each other, just the two of us. Like before. Like always. _

“Holy shit Cas,” Dean said, “is that a good idea. I’d like to fucking hire you as my English tutor.”

“Done,” Cas said. 

Dean gave Cas an odd look. 

“You know it was a joke, right?” Dean asked. “I can’t pay you.”

“You don’t need to,” Cas said. “Do you really think I’d let you fail English?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t fail,” Dean argued with a touch of indignation. “I’d manage, like, a C at least.”

Cas raised both of his eyebrows and gave Dean a skeptical look. 

“I would!” Dean insisted. “I’m good at school! Don’t doubt me, you fucker!” 

That made Cas snort. Dean found his own laughter drawn out by the sound of Castiel’s, but he continued to insist. 

“No, I would!” Dean said, laughing. “You can- you can bet your angelic ass I would!” 

This, of course, increased Cas’s laughter to a near hysterical level. 

“I’d never doubt you, Dean,” Cas managed after his laughter had settled down to the point where he could breathe again. 

* * *

 

##  Now

When they first arrive to protest Cas gets lucky. Uriel gives him a pile of fliers to take around the the back of the building as the rest of them make all the noise out front. The rest of them excluding Balthazar, of course. You couldn’t pay Balthazar enough to come, and none of them had been inclined to try anyway. 

Castiel nods agreement to Uriel’s orders and heads to the back of the building with relief. This way, with luck, he would not only manage to avoid Meg, Dean, Dean’s friends, and anyone else, but also avoid getting the disgust of the entire rest of the campus with his suitemates. Uriel’s posse is an outlier on campus. Most of the campus, as well as the administration, is supportive of the LGBT Center and the students it represents. 

After few minutes of awkwardly standing with fliers and wondering where he could, or should, put one up, Castiel’s luck runs out. 

“Hello?” A familiar voice says behind him. “Clarence?” 

Castiel turns to face Meg. 

“Clarence, you know, if you wanted to join us you could have just come in-” Meg starts to explain. Then she notices the papers in Castiel’s arms, and her voice cuts off abruptly. “What are those?”

Castiel stays silent. He’s not even sure what he could say. His chest constricts and he feels trapped. 

“Those look like the same papers as those assholes out front have,” Meg notes. “Clarence, are you- are you with them?”

Castiel opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Meg can see the truth in his expression, anyway. 

“Seriously?” Meg says. “I mean, seriously? That Dean dude in there said you were an asshole, but I thought he was just a jerk. I guess he’s a truthful jerk, at least.” 

The mention of Dean’s name makes Cas’s face twitch. Dread builds in his stomach. He still doesn’t speak. 

“What, does Dean’s name bother you?” Meg asks, noting Cas’s movement. “I heard you two had a little competition or something, so I figured it was just that. I just thought Dean was a jerk and you were being a bit petty. God knows that I’m the master of petty, so I wouldn’t mind that, but now I learn. Thought I was a decent judge of character, but I guess I better work on my skills. Dean’s in there, at least, getting real with everybody about his ex and all that, and here you are, fake as fuck-”

“His ex?” Cas finally finds his voice to ask. 

“Yeah, his first and only, all that shit- well, only that matters, maybe-”

“First and only?” Cas couldn’t help but ask, “Who?”

“I don’t know, some girl, Lisa or Leslie or something I think, what the fuck does it matter? Will Dean’s ex make you any less homophobic and gross? Why are you even doing this?” 

_ Some girl.  _ The words echo in Cas’s head.  _ Some girl.  _ Dean found some girl after Cas, someone he could start a family with and please his father with. Someone who matters, the  _ only  _ one that matters. Of course. Cas was just a fucking mistake to Dean, Dean’s recent attempt to show sympathy must have been out of guilt. Guilt, just like Castiel’s guilt. Cas shakes his head. 

In some pit of his stomach Cas had always believed that Dean would find some girl who actually fit with him and who his father wanted him to be. This shouldn’t be a surprise to him, yet he wouldn’t be more surprised if a stranger came up and punched him in the gut. 

At least he’d admit that Dean meant something to him. At least Dean does- did mean something to him. Does Cas mean nothing to him? 

It just- it’s not possible. But if Cas meant something to him, than why would Dean lie about him so cavalierly, in such an outright way? How? After all, Dean is in there, with the support of the LGBT center behind him. Why would he lie, unless it’s the truth? The truth that Cas doesn’t really, never really, mattered. 

_ To him or anyone else, apparently,  _ Cas thinks bitterly. 

“Clarence? Earth to the fucking angel here!” Meg shouts. “What the hell? How could you spread shit like this, about us- about me? About Garth and Charlie and Benny and Dean, too? This people are my friends, this is me.”

Cas feels like there’s nothing inside him. Nothing twisted upon itself, bitterness and toxic ideology and betrayal mixed together in an acid soup that’s eaten everything else away. 

He can’t feel his face, his chest, he can’t feel anything- and his fists have been clenched since Meg first mentioned Dean’s ex. He can feel stinging pain and wetness in his palm, and he thinks he might have broken through to skin. 

“It’s because you disgust me,” Castiel says, words from his mother and Lucifer and Uriel and even, oh God, Dean rising through him. “You and everyone like you.” 

Meg’s face cracks, some part of the damage under her strong facade showing through in some odd way. Her expression didn’t actually change much, but Castiel couldn’t help but feel that it somehow broke open. 

Castiel regrets it the moment he realizes what he’d done. No matter what Dean or his roommates have done Meg was supposed to be his friend. He can feel tears sting behind his eyes, but he can’t let himself cry. Or maybe he just can’t cry. 

“Fuck you,” Meg whispers. “Fuck you, Castiel, and everyone like you.” She speaks his real name in contempt. She takes in a shaky breath. “You caught me by surprise, music and all, but I- I’d like to think I’m done with any obligation toward assholes like you. Have fun with your pathetic little life.” She gives him a cold smile. 

She turns and walks away. Despite the inches between their heights Castiel thinks that, as she marches away, Meg is taller and stronger than he could ever be. 

_ I’m sorry, C _ as thinks desperately. He can’t open his mouth, he can’t speak, he can’t move, but he wishes he could shout.  _ I’m sorry. Just listen. It’s not you I wanted to hurt. You don’t deserve it. I’m sorry.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so nice, writing the Then part of this chapter, I tired to make it a really sweet scene... then I had to write the Now part.
> 
> Trying to write Cas's goodness (because he does try hard to be a good person) into the "Then" scenes, because he's on a roll with shitty choices in the Now scenes.
> 
> Also, bit of timeline weirdness in the Now scenes, I guess: you'll get to see what happened on that day with Dean's perspective next update, and it happened sorta before, sorta after, sorta simultaneously with this scene with Cas. It's easier to figure it out by reading it then to explain it.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean thought about his feelings, about his father and Cas.
> 
> Now Dean shares a limited story in small group sharing for ally training, and only runs into more trouble when he tries to escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story continues! As usual, Dean will struggle with his emotions and decisions. Cas does the exact same thing, but this chapter happens to focus primarily on Dean. 
> 
> Warnings for internalized homophobia, maybe.

##  Then

John hadn’t been joking about how long he’d be staying away. He’d left during the first week of school, and now they were more than halfway through the first term and he hadn’t been back. It was okay, though. He still called and sent money. Dean could make it through. 

He just needed some distractions. 

He continued to sneak into Cas’s house, late at night, when he knew it was safe, and he spent a decent amount of his days running chores and looking after Sam. Dean might give his teachers and peers the impression of a devil-may-care reckless attitude, but he knew how quickly his and Sam’s lives would go to shit without some basic maintenance. Somebody’s gotta go to the grocery store sometimes, just like, once in a blue moon, somebody’s gotta clean. If their room gets too moldy they could get thrown out. With homework on top of all that Dean’s pretty busy to begin with- but not busy enough. 

If he spent too much time alone, just thinking, there was no way to avoid how his thoughts turned to how alone he was. Their father had stayed away for good lengths of time before, but usually not these long periods one right after another. It used to be that when Dean got overwhelmed he would just remind himself that Dad would be back, to stay at least for awhile.  _ Dad will still be back,  _ Dean reminded himself,  _ just... not necessarily for awhile.  _

When Dean really needed support, not just emotionally but in terms of having another body helping out with all the shit that needed to be done to look after two kids, that felt the same as John never being back at all. 

Dean was going through these thoughts as he tucked Sam in that night. The TV was on yet the little nerd had fallen asleep reading a book. Dean couldn’t help but smile as he pulled up Sam’s blanket. He didn’t do this with Sam every night, but sometimes he needed it as much as Sam might have. 

Dean let himself sit on the bed next to Sam for a moment. He could feel the weariness in his bones. He felt an extra weight in his stomach from guilt, for a moment, as he realized he wanted his father back for his help almost as much as he wanted his father back because Dean loved his Dad. Dean shook off the feeling and heaved himself up. 

He managed to drag himself across the room and turn off the TV before falling into bed. 

A distraction, that’s all he needed, or maybe something more than that. Dean’s dated a little bit before, but it was fucking middle school. Not that much happened. Mostly he just kissed girls, caused drama, and managed not to get into too many actual physical fights before switching schools. 

But right then, looking at the ceiling with an ache in his chest, Dean felt like he might need a bit more than make-outs and drama. Just, something good. Something to help him make it through. 

With that idea thoughts of Cas ran unbidden through Dean’s mind. He shook his head. Cas was honestly the biggest support, the largest supply of warm feelings to banish the loneliness that Dean had right now, but they couldn’t actually hang nearly as much. A few times a week, maybe, and Dean knew that that was a lot, but it wasn’t nearly as much as they had during summer. Even in summer, when the long, empty days gave them chances to see each other every day, Dean wished that they could meet more. 

Maybe it was better that they didn’t meet as much. Sometimes it was bit, well, hanging out with Cas, how close they got. It just got Dean a bit confused.  _ Confused _ , Dean repeated in his head,  _ that’s all _ . No real need to worry. It was just that teenage hormones cropping up with random emotions and horniness, right? 

Yeah, even when Cas wasn’t there, Dean’s thoughts got a bit Cas-focused in a way that wasn’t really, well, platonic, but whatever. It didn’t mean anything. Those eyes of his would look good on anyone, Dean justified to himself. Cas just had some androgynously good-looking features, and sometimes it made Dean think of how good they would look on a girl. 

Still, with how close they got sometimes, when their faces were close together or when Cas touched him, sometimes Dean got real life urges. Nothing really sexual, though. If there was anything really sexual in there then Dean was suppressing the hell out of it. Just impulses to touch Cas lightly, to maybe stroke him, or just, touch his face. Really, Dean felt like he could sorta blame this on Cas. Cas’s staring was really intense, and sometimes he stared through Dean’s eyes even when their faces were close together, it was only natural for Dean to get some urges to touch his face. Even urges to touch his face with Dean’s own face, that was probably to be expected. They just forgot personal space, that was all. Dean should probably pull back a bit, then, just in case. It would be unspeakable if Dean ever did something that made Cas know, or even suspect, that Dean felt this way. 

_ Just,  _ Dean reminded himself.  _ That’s all these feelings are, _ just _ random shit. _

Dean could brush off these feelings all he wanted, he still knew how important they were from the visceral reaction to the idea that he could be caught out in them. Fear and guilt clenched his gut. He needed to be less physical with Cas, to hang out less, maybe to avoid some of those personal topics that Cas got out of Dean like no one else could. Dean needed to put some more space into their relationship.

The only problem was that he didn’t want to. He didn’t want to put any space between himself and Cas or to block Cas off at all, not just in that he lacked the desire to, but in the way that just the thought of putting a wall between himself and Castiel made Dean grow heavier. He enjoyed their friendship so much, and even the... feelings that Dean sometimes got about Cas were actually pleasant, in the same way hope is pleasant. 

Dean could tell himself to pull back all he wanted to, he still knew that he wouldn't have the willpower or courage to. He’d just have to hope that Cas never noticed anything, and that his own willpower was enough not to say anything.

Dean looked up toward the bedside alarm clock. It was a bit after eleven. It was probably late enough to go see Cas. 

After these last few thoughts skimming across the surface of Dean’s feelings around Cas, Dean knew that this was a bad idea. He had school tomorrow, anyway, so  it wasn’t like he’d be able to stay that long. 

None of this stopped Dean from getting up, getting on his shoes, and walking out into the night. 

* * *

 

##  Now

It starts out with some basic mingling. Dean feels awkward as hell. He’s the only dude in a group with Pamela, Charlie, and this girl named Meg. Leaving Benny and his other floormates to try to talk to Pamela seemed obvious when Dean first spotted her here, looking gorgeous, and Dean thought maybe he could at least get a good one night stand out of this experience. Trying to flirt with a hot girl seemed like just the right way to affirm that yeah, he’s here in the Pride center to talk about gay stuff, but he’s not gay. Only the whole flirting thing doesn’t really work when you’re awkwardly attempting to join an ongoing conversation in the first place, and Pamela doesn’t actually seem all that interested right now.

They’re chatting about classes and shit, nothing even gay or gay related, but it didn’t make Dean feel less awkward. He still doesn’t know what he’s doing here. It all seemed so clear while walking away fuming from Cas, and when Benny questioned him, well, of course Dean just had to throw himself in. He couldn’t admit being nervous about going to some gay, or, LGBT event. 

Except now that he’s here he’s nervous as hell and has no idea what he’s doing here. It’s a relief when the official event starts and Dean can stop awkwardly attempting to be a part of a conversation. He plops himself down in a nearby chair to wait as everyone else gets themselves settled. 

There’s a short speech, which Dean mostly tunes out while thinking. He’s a bit confused by the fact that all the speakers introduce themselves and then say what pronouns they go by. He’s a bit confused by all of this, most of all himself. 

Here he is, in a space literally for accepting gay people, and feeling more uncomfortable with the gay part of himself than ever. He feels like everyone’s going to look at him and just assume- well, everyone does that everyday anyway, but usually they assume he’s straight. It seems dangerous that anyone would assume otherwise, or maybe even just not assume. In a weird way, Dean thinks, he almost feels more of an impulse to defend his fake straightness then ever. It’s a room full of gay- wait, LGBT, Dean remembers- people, maybe they can just sense it? Dean blinks. The speech person says something about society and she might as well be speaking Chinese for all that Dean understands.

Tuning it out wasn’t the best idea, and Dean is completely blindsided when everyone starts getting up and wandering off. Is this some sort of break, or did they get instructions that he just completely fucking missed?

He searches the room for some familiar faces. He silently curses himself for deciding to go farther than four feet from the guys. They appear to be nowhere near. He finally spots Charlie, just a few seats away, still hanging with Pamela and Meg. Garth’s hovering around them, too. Dean makes his way toward them as quickly as he can through the crowd. He didn’t expect this event to be so very full of people.

“Oh, hey Dean!” Garth calls to him. “Want to join our group?”

“Sure!” Dean seizes the opportunity. He just needs to make it through this. 

“Okay, so we’re trying to be real, here in this space,” Charlie announces from the front of the room. “In order to get into a place where we can have the sort of honest discussions required to face homophobia and transphobia in our lives, we’re going to need to be open and honest. With this in mind, this icebreakers going to get a bit more personal.” Dean swallows. This is not what he had been planning to get into. “We’re going to start with some easy questions, and get to some deeper ones. Each person will take a question, and it’ll continue going counter-clockwise. Now, we don’t want anyone to be really uncomfortable or feel forced to share anything traumatic, so if you need to you can pass. However, this is supposed to be Ally Training, and as an Ally you’re going to need to learn to be out there a bit more, so everyone needs to answer at least two questions, okay?”

There’s some more stuff about logistics, and then they start. Charlie reads out the questions from the front of the room. It almost makes it worse that everyone else in the group with Dean all seem so comfortable with this. Pamela couldn’t be caught off guard for the world, Garth is always enthusiastic about sharing, and Dean doesn’t know much about this Meg girl yet, but so far she seems like one cool cookie. Much cooler than Dean’s feeling right now. 

“Dean,” Garth says. Dean blinks. “Favorite color?”

“What?” Dean asks. 

“That was your question,” Meg informs him. “Unless you somehow don’t know.”

“No,” Dean says. “I mean, I do know. It’s blue.” 

“Ah,” Meg snarks, “of course it would be the more stereotypically masculine one.” 

“I didn’t choose it because it was masculine,” Dean says. He doesn’t whine, it’s just  that something in her tone is just irritating enough to make him defensive. “Blue isn’t even always masculine.”

Meg just shrugs. Charlie announces the next question. Two more lighthearted questions, about favorite movies and seasons of the year, before they get into the deeper ones.

“What experiences have you had with homophobia, biphobia, transphobia, etcetera?” Charlis asks. Dean is glad he didn’t get this one, it goes to Garth. 

“Well, I’ve experienced two of those,” Garth says. “Currently I’m with a girl, but I was with boys in the past. I got more negative comments for being with boys from my family, but now there are all these people who just think I’m straight and it’s not… great.”

Dean doesn’t want to hear about this. He’s suddenly sure of this. There’s too much, just too much. He wants to hum or space out or something. 

“Excuse me,” he mumbles, and stands up. Garth cuts off abruptly, and they all stare up at him. “Uh, any of you know where the bathroom is?”

“Door on the left wall, down the hall after that,” Meg intones. Dean nods, and books it as fast as he can walk on out. 

As soon as he’s out of the activities room Dean just leans and against a wall and collapses. He feels tired in his bones, even though he got plenty of sleep last night. He just doesn’t want to think, and this whole thing has been making him think about things he definitely doesn’t want to think about.

Here he is, Dean Winchester, in a space he knows would accept him as gay or bi or whatever, but he still can’t even consider coming out. Every single other person in his group might be some flavor of LGBT, it would be the most accepting place Dean could pick if he tried, no excuses but he’s just… he’s just….

_ A coward,  _ Dean thinks.  _ A coward and a liar just like my dad.  _

He puts his hands over his face and takes in a shuddering breath. He stays like that a few moments, before sighing and letting his hands fall down by his sides. He lets it all roll past him. He doesn’t know how he’s going to step back in that room, but for now he’s outside and for now he’s okay. He doesn’t need to think about it, he can’t. 

Dean looks around, considering any way he could get out of this. He could just leave, text Benny that he threw up in the bathroom or something. Between coward or liar it just seems to him to be easier, for right now, to be a coward.

Dean straightens up. It’s time to leave. He turns toward the back exit of the building, down the fall to his right, and immediately flattens himself against the wall.

It isn’t the smartest move, he’s just as visible against the white concrete wall as not, but it was instinct, he can’t help it. Not when Cas is standing  _ right there. _

_ How could that even be him?  _ Dean studies the figure standing on the other side of the glass double-doors down the hall. He’s standing up straight, holding something in one arm that he appears to be preoccupied with. He has dark, messy hair and is wearing a trenchcoat. He is definitely Cas. 

Dean groans and lets his head fall back against the wall as he squeezes his eyes shut. Why would Cas even be here? What the hell? It almost feels intentional, Cas being here just as Dean is going to give up on this stupid act of petty revenge against him. 

Even if Cas can't see him and doesn’t know, it’s a reminder of- well, it’s a reminder of everything. A reminder of the bitter break-up, the lying, the regret, the loneliness and the longing. It’s a reminder of how Dean felt bad for Cas and Cas just threw it in his fucking face. Dean scowls. Fuck that. Fuck everything, everything being Cas. 

Maybe Dean doesn’t need to lie about his past relationship with Cas. Maybe he could just treat it just the way Cas wants to treat it, like it was nothing. Like Cas was nothing. 

It’s a thought just bitter enough to appeal to Dean right now. Painful, but painful in a way that seems right given the situation.

Dean doesn’t bother to wait for Cas to turn around and spot him. He just heads straight back into the activity room, this time with a new confidence in his step. It’s the kind of confidence that’s more reminiscent of the Winter Soldier than Beyonce, but it’s something to get him through.

“Sorry about that,” Dean says as he sits back down with his group. “What’d I miss?”

“Your question, actually,” Meg answers him.

“‘What do you think of as love vs attraction?’” Pamela quotes. “More philosophical than most of the questions we’ve got so far, but you probably couldn’t answer a question on queer theory or anything anyway.”

“We didn’t get any questions on queer theory anyway, and it’s fine if you don't’ know,” Garth adds in. “That’s the whole point of training, that you don’t have to come in knowing everything and with a Ph.D in sexuality and gender studies. You can pass on this question, if you want-”

“No, no I think I’m good,” Dean interrupts. He thinks of the figure standing outside, messy-haired and unaware. “I know what I want to say.” His tone is a bit too harsh for talking about love, but he can’t change it. “I think about my girlfriend, Lisa, my only ex. Well, my only ex that matters. We were each other's first loves, you know, and she was more into that than I was, but it was still sweet. Nothing like that woman, she was one of a kind.”

“Great way to turn the question into an opportunity to brag on your straightness,” Meg says. Dean feels a flash of irritation against her. She didn’t even know him well enough to make that kind of comment.

“Well, if that was my straight love, I wouldn’t exactly brag about it,” Dean replies. He lets his anger show in his voice now, he doesn’t need or want to hide it. “It ended in enough flames to warn me away from love in the future, and I don’t foresee those scars healing soon. So I guess gay love is one up on me there, right?” 

He narrows his eyes at Meg and lets his voice take on a quality of almost hysteria. He expects her to bite back something about his self pity or something, but she just nods.

“Fair enough,” Meg agrees, though who she’s agreeing with Dean isn’t sure. Nothing he said was really true enough to deserve greement. “We’ve all been there.”

Dean just nods in response. He doesn’t trust himself to speak. It doesn’t matter, he wouldn't know what to say. 

He passes on his next question.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the "Now" chapter here happens slightly before the "Now" chapter of last time. This time, we get to focus on Dean's terrible decisions and actions! Gotta give both of them time and attention. 
> 
> I wouldn't qualify my fic as being "miscommunication", because characters communicate what they want to communicate. It just happens to be that what they want to communicate is mixed up, regrettable, and sort of terrible.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean and Cas celebrate Halloween. 
> 
> Now Castiel walks a drunk Dean home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I have finals coming up soon! Hope those will go well. Hope those of you going through finals do well, too, and that my fic can bring some comfort in this time of grades and suffering. Because of final studying, I have posted a chapter early. You're welcome. 
> 
> Warning for alcohol abuse and underage drinking (by US standards).

##  Then

Castiel sat on his desk chair, but he faced the window. In front of him was his music stand, and on his lap his guitar. He’d been practicing the guitar for something like an hour now, and had practiced his violin before then. Soon it would be seven, which on any October 31st before would just mean homework. 

But not this year. 

Castiel glanced up toward the window, and felt a small twinge of guilt in his gut. His uncle, his mother, and even once his father warned in the past of Halloween being pagan blasphemy. But they so frequently warned of things being sinful, even things Castiel knew they did like drink socially, speak badly of others when those others weren’t around to defend themselves, and lying to defend family honor. It’s not that Castiel didn’t believe his family when they said something was wrong, it was only that- that he’d noticed a bit of a gap, between what was said and what was done. 

It was as though some small transgressions were allowed as long as otherwise they were good and pious. With his mother and father and the other adults of the Church, well, they had to be good enough that some small sins must be allowable for them, but not for sinners. It was the only thing that Castiel could think to explain it. 

He wasn’t sure if he was really good enough to be given any room for slight sinful pleasures. After all, he’d been lying quite a bit lately. Even before then Castiel didn’t always have the social respect or religious insights that he should’ve. He has his music and, really, should he be granted more than that? 

Castiel focused back on his guitar and started fiddling around, playing any riff that came to mind to take the restless unease from his fingers. He reminded himself of Dean’s assurances, that Halloween was fun for all and did not harm. Father Zachariah had been wrong about Dean, Castiel knew that in his bones. Dean was rough around the edges, and Castiel knew that it would be hard to justify his transgressions with Dean against his faith, but even so. 

Castiel knows how hard Dean works for Sam, he knows the assumptions people make about Dean and the challenges Dean’s gotten through, at least some of them. Even had Castiel not known it would be so hard to imagine that someone who laughed and smiled like Dean, who had his comforting touch and expressive eyes, could  _ not _ be fundamentally good. Perhaps it was naive, but Castiel couldn’t help but think of Dean as good. 

A knock on Castiel’s window breaks through his thoughts. He looks up to see the very smile he had just been imagining. Cas wastes no time putting down his guitar and opening the window up. 

“You’re running a bit late,” Cas comments. 

“Yeah, well, got a bit delayed with a few last-minute touches to my costume,” Dean said. “You try home-making a costume.” 

“Dean.” Cas said. “I literally home made a costume, at your request. You try home-making a costume when you have limited resources and are required to keep it a secret.” 

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said. He looked a little bit sheepish. “I know. No need for the righteousness. Speaking of righteousness, how’s the costume?”

“It’s a small pair of wings and a hat that doubles as a glow stick stand,” Cas said. “I don’t think it experiences enough emotions or sentience to answer that.”

“Cas, you little shit, you knew what I meant,” Dean sighed. Despite this he was still smiling. 

Cas smirked in response, or at least tried to. He wasn’t sure exactly how Dean, or anyone, managed to smirk. 

“I know.” Cas said. “I have it in a box at the bottom of my closet. It’s ready to go.” 

“Excellent,” Dean said. It was a short time before they were on the ground in Castiel’s yard, on their way to Dean’s place. Sneaking out was familiar to them both by now, and practice made ease and speed. 

“Is the bat suit finished, then?” Cas asked as they walked. 

“It is, fucking finally,” Dean said. “Managed to get a whole pack of bendy glow sticks for your halo, too, while looking for the right gloves. Goodwill has everything, man.”

Cas laughed. “I hope I’ll get to shop in one someday, then,” he said.

“Woah, woah, wait,” Dean stated in disbelief. “You’ve never been to Goodwill? Seriously?”

“Most of us are not actually allowed to do our own shopping,” Cas explained. “I think my mother actually hires someone to do it, but she may just recruit church ladies. Do you really think Gabriel likes button-up shirts and plain or striped t-shirts more than graphic tees?”

“Holy shit dude,” Dean said. “That makes so much sense, but still, holy shit. In fact, I think the amount of sense it makes contributes to how fucking weird it is. I bet Gabe would totally wear some weird-ass band shirt or a shirt with puns or something.”

“Dean, you don’t even really know him,” Cas objected lightly. 

“I feel like I know all of your siblings. Hell, I feel like I know nearly everyone in your family after talking to you so much,” Dean said. “I mean, come on. Tell me I’m wrong about Gabriel.”

“I believe he likes Korean music, actually,” Cas remarks. 

“What, seriously?” 

“Yes, K-Pop, I’ve heard him discuss it with his friends,” Cas said. “I’m forced to hang out with them occasionally at school, when Anna isn’t there.”

“Okay, now I need to hear about all of your siblings’ music tastes,” Dean said. “For that matter, what’s your music taste, Cas? Pretty sure I’ve heard you play a bit more than classical, even on the violin, and you seem to listen to... whatever is playing, sorta.” 

“My music choice isn’t very discriminating,” Cas replied. “I have no dislike for any particular genre, and even when music is badly written it’s enjoyable in a way. I find it rather inspirational to critique music, to think about what I would have done differently when playing or writing it. As for my siblings, Michael seems mostly uninterested in music, Lucifer likes playing rap music very loudly sometimes, but I suspect that may be only to irritate our parents so it’s hard to be sure, and Anna enjoys rock music. Mother will only let her listen to Christian rock, and she threw away a number of rock CDs from Anna’s friends a couple of years ago. Gabriel says her friends still share music with her at school, though.”

“Your sister’s a girl after my own heart,” Dean said with a grin. For some reason this made Cas uncomfortable, rather than happy. Usually Dean’s grins only invoked pleasant emotions. 

“I enjoy rock music as well,” Cas felt the need to add. 

“‘Course you do, little genius that you are,” Dean said. “Which begs the question, why the hell don’t I get to hear more rock music from you? Bet you can play the hell outta some classics on your guitar.” 

“I can play classic rock on any of my instruments,” Cas said. “I believe you would be pleasantly surprised with some of my bass, violin, and piano covers.” 

“Dude, this I gotta hear,” Dean agreed, holding Cas’s gaze with his own for a few moments. The discomfort of a few moments ago had vanished for Cas completely. 

“But not tonight,” Dean added as they rounded the corner and saw the motel. “Tonight is reserved for the Halloween and the candy.” 

* * *

 

##  Now

Cas has ended up walking home alone, late at night, again. It’s nearing midnight and the last of the other students in Cannope Hall have all gone home. The building was finally too empty to stomach, and Cas had gone out soon after the rest of them. The lights in the building were mostly off already.

Cas practices late, signing up for practice rooms as much as he can. When the rooms are already taken he offers to practice with whoever’s there, no matter their skill level. It’s actually helping him learn more styles of music and enhance his skills in playing, even if the point is only to stay out of his household for as long as possible. He’s been missing many of the dinners, showing up only about a night a week. He hopes it’s enough to stop anyone complaining to his mother, but he finds it hard to muster up the energy in worrying about that. It probably wouldn’t happen and, to be quite honest, Castiel might prefer to shoot himself in the foot rather than have dinner with them every single night. 

He wonders how he managed it with his family for eighteen God forsaken years. 

Not that there aren’t those for him to avoid at the music school. Meg is the only person he outright avoids, and in return she gives him challenging looks. Some of her friends give him looks sometime as well, but these are more confused or questioning than angry, and none refuse to work with him. Aside from Meg, Castiel has played with people of all genres, instrumentation, and skill levels these past few weeks. He doesn’t speak to anyone besides what’s practically necessary, and he certainly doesn’t hang out with any of them outside the compounds of the music studios. No matter what impression of him they get it’s better this way. 

Meg has proved that, and it fits his habits anyway. 

So Castiel walks home alone through campus, passing parties and other students. The sound of drunken yelling can be heard every so often. It does not seem to matter whether Cas can see the lights of a party or not. Sometimes he’ll pass by dorm rooms low enough to the ground that the thumping bass of the music can be heard to match the bright light that escapes from the windows. 

Castiel’s housing is actually a little bit off campus, and he passes one club on the way. It is much like the party dorms earlier in the route, only on a larger scale. He doesn’t pay it any mind. His housing is still close enough by the campus to be safe, and it’s better to ignore these things, just like everything else. 

Passing the club is not actually very exciting. The most that has happened has been a drunk dude calling to him once. Well, it’s not usually exciting. Tonight Cas passes by at just the right time to catch the tail end of a fight. 

The bouncer, a man large enough that he has to duck through the doorway of the club, hauls out two guys. He has one in a headlock and drags the other by the arm. He physically throws them both out, right in front of Cas’s pathway. Cas stops a good 15 feet back to avoid the scene. 

“Haul your asses off home, or we’re calling the cops,” the big bouncer dude says. 

“You wan’ me to fuckin’- fucking let him off for sleepin’ with my girl?” One of the ones being dragged says. His voice is slurred, but he manages to get up and gesture sloppily toward the other one. “You didn’ even kick her out!”

“She wasn’t fighting,” big bouncer dude remarks. “Now head the fuck home and don’t deal with your issues on our property.” He crosses his arms, and there’s an edge to his voice. 

The dude starts swearing loudly at the bouncer, who stands unmoved, but then a couple more people hurry out of the bar. Castiel watches them as they grab the swearing man and drag him away, speaking to him in low voices and sending the bouncer concerned looks. From the way the man goes with them Castiel assumes they must be his friends. 

The other man kicked out just stands there and looks at the bouncer. He must not have any friends to drag him away, or perhaps his friends just aren’t here right now. 

“Where am I supposed to go?” He asks the bouncer. The sound of his voice makes clear recognition breakthrough Cas’s eyes. Suddenly the pose of the man’s body, the glint of his blond hair in the streetlight, the way his hands move, and the drunken tilt to his voice all come into focus. Dean. 

“Home, dude,” the bouncer says. “Where you live. Not here.”

“Oooh, yeah,” Dean slurs. He’s definitely wasted, this is the third time Cas has ever seen him like this, and those other times were both caused by specific events. Maybe things have changed, though. Maybe this is common for Dean now. 

Dean looks around a bit and takes a wobbly step back. The bouncer nods another group into the bar. 

“How?” Dean asks. 

The bouncer sighs. “Just call a friend or something, kid.” 

“I’m not a kid,” Dean argues. “I’m over- I’m over drinking age.” Cas knows for a fact that he is not. “And I can’t call friends ‘cuz they’d just be mad. Or, that thing, not mad, that other thing- like, sad, but not.”

_ Disappointed,  _ Cas thinks. He stays silent and standing, torn on what to do. He’s taken care of drunk Dean a couple of times before, of course he did, one thing Cas and Dean had from the beginning when it came to the other was support. That doesn’t mean that Cas likes drunk Dean, and Cas is certain that Dean has known that Cas was as disappointed in Dean when he got drunk as Dean was disappointed in himself. It still makes Cas’s insides fall and twist, with more than just disappointment, to see Dean like this again. 

But Cas is still angry at Dean, or at least he should be. Mad at the lies he heard Meg repeat, more than anything. The very thought of those lies, and their implication, makes Cas slightly nauseous. He’s hurt and sad, but looking at a drunk, beat up Dean standing alone on a corner aside from a bouncer staring him down… Cas just can’t find any of the anger he should have right now. Maybe he shouldn’t have any anger anyway. It’s not like he and Dean both don’t lie and omit their relationship every day, Dean just took that a little further.

It hurts, but really, what right does Cas have to be angry? What right has Cas ever had to be angry, except for that fact that it hurt too much not to be and that he couldn’t stop the feeling?

“I don’t care,” the bouncer states, “go the fuck home.”

“Home burned down when I was four,” Dean says, “and none of the homes after that lasted, either.” 

The bouncer just crosses his arms in response to this. Cas can see the loss of patience in that stance. Cas starts walking forward, right up to Dean. Closer up Cas can see that Dean’s face is bruising, one eye swelling shut. 

“Hello Dean,” Cas says. Dean sways a bit and Cas puts a steadying hand on his shoulder. Cas turns to the bouncer. “I can take him home.”

“Do it, then,” the bouncer orders. He nods a couple more people in, and otherwise ignores them. The lack of reaction makes Cas feel a bit nervous. 

“Cas?” Dean asks. “Shouldn’t you be home? Your mom’s gonna get pissy, you gotta go home.”

“I am going home, Dean,” Cas tells him, “and so are you. Which dorm are you in?”

“Unit 2,” Dean says automatically. Must be drilled into him already. Cas sighs. 

“That’s the South side of campus,” Cas complains. The opposite direction of Cas’s. 

“Yup!” Dean agrees cheerfully. “C’mon!” He promptly starts walking off in the wrong direction. 

Cas takes a few hurried steps forward and grabs his arm. 

“This way,” Cas says, part-dragging Dean in the opposite direction. In his current state Dean doesn’t object much to the dragging. He just smiles at Cas and goes along with it, face flushed with alcohol and still pretty in the street lighting, despite the bruises. Dean actually draws a bit closer, leaning on Cas a bit more than necessary. 

Dean leans his head sideways, resting it a bit on Cas’s shoulder. It’s achingly reminiscent of the times before they dated, when they would use any excuse to draw in close and brush skin when they were alone. Dean definitely pulls in closer and touches him more than necessary, but Cas can’t bring himself to pull away. 

He’s still careful not to look toward Dean. He’s painfully aware of how close their faces would be. He doesn’t need to look over to see that Dean keeps looking at him, he can feel Dean’s breath and hear his drunken giggles. The last thing Cas needs is a shitfaced Dean trying to kiss him. Cas tells himself it’s anxiety about that that makes his heart speed up, anxiety or anger, but he knows it’s not. Cas’s stomach ties itself in guilty, giddy knots. 

It shouldn’t bother Cas what happens to Dean, he shouldn’t be anything to Dean anymore. That’s clear, especially after what he learned a couple weeks ago. Still, it’s impossible to pretend that seeing Dean in this state doesn’t bother him. Dean doesn’t drink much when he’s happy. Or at least, he didn’t. 

“What are you doing, Dean?” Cas asks him quietly. 

“Walking,” Dean’s response is certain. He smiles at Cas. Cas hasn’t seen that smile in so long, not the easy and open one like that. Cas looks away and speaks to Dean without looking at him. 

“I meant, why were you drunk? Why were you kissing a strange girl, a stranger’s girlfriend?” Cas asks. They round a corner and Cas remembers that he doesn’t really know if either of these people are strangers to Dean. He doesn’t know Dean anymore, he just needs to remember that. 

“I dunno,” Dean says. “She was hot. That’s all ya need- you know, for some things.” Cas decides to ignore that last comment. “Bet she felt the same about me.” 

“Almost certainly,” Cas reluctantly admits. He didn’t even see what happened and he knew that this was probably the case. “I suppose that this works well for something casual, were it not for her boyfriend.”

“Casual, casual,” Dean agrees, “Casual, that works. Dating doesn’t. Dating fucking- fuckin’- fucking sucks.” Dean gives an exaggerated sigh. “Everything sucks.”

“If you think everything sucks now, just wait until morning,” Cas tells him. “Between you and Lucifer I’ve seen enough hangovers to know what’s coming.” 

That makes Dean laugh, a full body laugh that makes him lose his grip on Cas and stumble sideways. Cas quickly turns to grab his shoulders and haul him up again. Dean is smiling the huge, bright smile that Cas used to watch him for. Cas tries to look down to avoid his smile or his eyes. 

“Uuur right, Cas,” Dean slurs. “You’re always so fucking right- right ‘bout me and us and Dad, you couldn’t even know ‘bout Dad but you were righ-” Dean stops in the middle of his sentence with a gag. 

“Dean?” Cas turns. 

Dean runs over to the nearest building and leans against it. He’s heaving, nearly vomiting. Cas comes over as he starts. The noises are disgusting. 

“Sorry,” Dean whispers, “‘m sorry.”

“Hey, Dean, it’s alright,” Cas soothes. “It’s okay.” He rubs Dean’s back as he starts vomiting again. Dean apologizes a few more times, and Cas continues to reassure him. How it was that Dean did this for his father and yet still decides to drink is a complete mystery to Cas, though that doesn’t really matter. It is what it is, and even now Cas can’t find it in himself to do anything but try and help. 

When Dean finally finishes he staggers back, and Cas really ends up having to support Dean to help him walk. More of the alcohol must be hitting him. With Dean’s arm around his shoulder and Dean’s drool on his arm Cas takes them both to the dorm. 

Dean doesn’t say much after that, he just mostly just mutters insults that seem to all be about his father, as far as Cas can make out. That’s new. Cas itches to ask what made Dean’s view of his father finally turn, but he knows it’s not any of his business. Dean wouldn’t be able to really answer questions in this state, anyway. 

Three times before they get to his dorm Dean picks up his head and reaches his other hand over, seeking Cas out. 

“Cas?” He asks. “You there? You still there?” 

_ I’m literally holding you up,  _ Cas thinks. The uncertainty and fear in Dean’s voice stops him from saying this, though. Not to mention how Dean’s fear and the smell of alcohol on Dean’s breath, the feel of Dean’s breath at all, brings to mind the very first time Dean got this drunk. It brings to mind Dean’s words, and the results of them. 

“Yes, Dean,” Cas answers. “I’m here. I’m still here.” About as true as when Cas had said  _ I’ll always be here.  _ A lie, but true for now. True for then. 

It’s both a relief and a regret when they reach Dean’s dorm. It’s only a relief, pure and sweet, that no one is there to see them. They stop outside and Dean just stares up at the building, like he’s never seen it before.

“I believe this is your stop,” Cas tells him. This grabs Dean’s attention, and he turns back towards Cas. Dean’s still close to Cas, still touching him, even, so when he looks over to look directly in Cas's eyes... Cas feels his heart stop beating for a moment and a large part of him wanted to step back, but something keeps him pinned to the spot.

Dean leans forward and for a few terrifying, exhilarating moments Cas thinks that he’s going to kiss him. Maybe that’s what he really had intended to do, in those moments.

But instead Dean grabs Cas’s arm and pulls a sharpie out of one of his pockets. This seems like an odd thing to have in a pocket for a night out drinking, but what does Cas know. He never drinks. The weather has yet to turn, and the night is warm enough that Cas’s sleeve is rolled up to his elbows. Dean scribbles something on the inside of Cas’s wrist. 

He then gives Cas a nod, puts the pen in Cas’s shirt pocket without putting the lid back on, and heads right around toward his dorm. Cas watches Dean get safe inside before he heads back to his own residence. Hopefully no one will be awake when he gets there. 

As he walks Cas takes a look at what Dean wrote on the inside of his arm. It’s a phone number. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff for the "Then" section I suppose. The "Now" section isn't too painful- or at least is painful in a way different from how it's been painful recently. A longing kind of pain rather than a more raw kind, maybe. Non-antagonistic interactions between Dean and Cas, too bad Dean won't remember it in the morning.
> 
> The hall Cas is coming from is made-up, btw.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas learned about the idea of “practice kissing” from Anna’s friends.
> 
> Now Dean wakes up with a hangover and limited memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wish me luck on my first exam tomorrow! Hopefully it will go well. 
> 
> Mild homophobia in the "Then" section, more heteronormativity than homophobia. Nothing really hateful, but some devaluing of same-sex relationships.

## Then

Lucifer always disappeared for lunch. That’s what Anna told Castiel on his first day of high school. Lucifer had always skipped over the back fence and headed for the football field bleachers for lunch, even though Lucifer was away at a military school stricter than their own local private Christian school and presumably skipped fences no more. The teachers here advertised their strict discipline along with the advanced coursework and academic challenge of this school, but the later was much more true than the former.

Now, his first day back, Lucifer skipped the fence once again, along with a couple other students. Anna and her friends ignored them, so Castiel did likewise. It fit the pattern, lately, of ignoring Lucifer. Naomi sent Michael to get Lucifer from the airport and, since then, has been determinedly ignoring his presence. To the extent that she made sure a place was never set for him at the table. Lucifer had been eating his meals in the kitchen, and most of his siblings had been at least pretending to follow their mother’s lead out of fear.

Now Anna continued to ignore Lucifer, and her friends followed her lead. Or maybe it wouldn’t occur to any of them to acknowledge Lucifer and those in their school of his ilk anyway. Troublemakers, jerks, sinners, hooligans and druggies, the lot of them- the names differ depending on who you ask.

Castiel realized that he actually had been staring at Lucifer and his friends for a bit, so he turns back to Anna and her friends. Anna and her friends were having a surprisingly deep discussion about the development of music of the past few decades by comparing Elvis Presley with Taylor Swift. Not exactly the angle Castiel would have thought to use, but it was fun to listen to. Castiel, of course, didn’t contribute and wasn’t expected to.

He couldn’t help but build his own opinion of their conversation, though. After all, he had received a crash course in music both classic and modern from Dean, on a wonderful Saturday afternoon spent lounging around with him, Sam, and Jo for a bit, listening to music and trying to beat the heat with hand fans and cold water from the sink. Castiel had tried to just pretend that the heat didn’t bother him, as he did with a number of other things in his life. This worked up until Dean decided to spray him with sink water “helpfully” and they somehow ended up wrestling with Sam and Jo cheering from the sidelines. Cas had to admit that the impromptu match got him overheated very quickly.

The only reason he sat with these girls was because they were kinder to tag-alongs than Gabe’s friends were. Or at least, their idea of kindness included fewer pranks than Gabriel’s (who went by Gabe to his friends at school) friends did. As if cued by his thoughts there was an explosions of laughter and milk at Gabe’s table across the lunchroom.

Castiel turned with Anna and her friends to stare.

“I don’t think that was as impressive as they think it was,” Hannah said.

Anna laughed.

“Oh God, no doubt. My brother probably thought it was the most clever thing ever, though.”

Castiel reflected on how odd Anneal and Gabriel’s relationship was, that they could be so close at home as Anneal and Gabriel yet so distant at school as Anna and Gabe. But that wasn’t so different from him and Gabriel, after all. Gabriel was his most supportive sibling at home, the one most likely to check on him and give him all the awkward yet sincere comfort a sibling could offer, yet Anna was the one willing to stand up for Cas at school. She insisted that he be treated with respect by and at least somewhat allowed into their friend group.

“Well, I suppose you have an insider perspective,” Anna said, nudging Castiel out of his meandering thoughts. “I probably do a bit, too, with five brothers and I’d say it’s definitely not true.”

“What?” Castiel asked.

“Guys vs girls type thing,” Hannah told him. “Our social studies teacher, Mr. Phillips, said girls were clean and guys were messy.”

“Anna’s taking a stand against this,” Tessa said. “Anna can see truth, with four male siblings.” She turned from Castiel to Anna. “Or maybe you’re just a stubborn unnatural redhead who couldn’t agree with Mr. Phillips to save your life.”

“I told you, it’s not unnatural, I don’t dye my hair!” Anna said. “And tell me you don’t agree with me about Mr. Phillips being a sexist old coot.”

Castiel only said, “That actually is her natural haircolor.”

“That is not how genetics work,” Hannah said as Tessa gave them both a scrutinizing look.

“Our family doesn’t believe in genetics anyway,” Anna snorted.

“Some of us are adopted,” Castiel explained nearly simultaneously.

“Woah!” Tessa said. “I didn’t know that.”

“I might not be,” Anna said. “Our parents don’t really tell us that sort of thing.”

They hint at it, though, Castiel knows. Especially when it comes to a certain older brother of theirs, the one who's supposed to be in this lunchroom right now. Though really it’s hard to tell, Naomi, Zachariah, even their father have been willing to hint at any one of them being adopted when they were angry with them. In their remarks Castiel was usually of Novak blood, especially when they comment on how God’s blessings runs through their families, but not always. Not one adult has forgotten to mention to him what great and charismatic speakers the men in the Novak family are, especially Castiel’s father, and how odd it is that Castiel was not. Of course Castiel never had anything to say in response to this.

“It’s okay if you are adopted,” Tessa said. “Wouldn’t surprise me as much as learning about your Joan Jett obsession.”

“That hasn’t really been an obsession for awhile now,” Anna said. She rolled her eyes dismissively, but Castiel could still see tenseness in her posture. Castiel could remember the end of that phase of Anneal’s very clearly. “Not since mom found my CDs and poster. You would not believe the rant they gave me for that.”

Tessa laughed.

“I bet I can,” she said. “Rock music is the work of the Devil, right? Promoting sin and sex and drug use and all that?”

“Oh, worse than that,” Anna said. Her tone edged with bitterness. “Uncle Zachariah decided to ‘help out’ and bring up that Joan Jett ‘promoted homosexuality’. Not only was rock music going to turn me into a sex-crazed druggie sinner, it was also going to turn me gay.”

Tessa laughed at that, but Hannah was seemed more confused than amused.

“Was Joan Jett gay?” She asked.

“I don’t know,” Anna said with a shrug. “I just liked the music. I guess there were some stuff in the lyrics, but I just thought I misheard it. I don’t know anything about it, but she probably just kissed girls sometimes, or something like that. That’s not really a big deal.”

“Doesn’t kissing girls... make you gay, though?” Hannah asked.

“Not really,” Tessa said. “Plenty of girls do it for guys, or for practice before they have a real first kiss. People like Anna’s uncle make a big deal out of it, but it’s not really gay.” She shrugged and gestured to herself. “I practiced kissing with one of my friends before I got a boyfriend, and I’m not gay, am I?”

“I guess not...” Hannah admitted.

“But isn’t that a slippery slope?” Castiel piped up to ask. He was used to his siblings, parents, the kids at school, and the rest of the world all saying different things, but he’d never heard anything like this before. Homosexuality was just off-limits, there weren’t any “no count” kisses. Memories of his occasional urge to kiss Dean that he’d thought he’d managed to dismiss as random impulses rose unbidden in his mind. He felt a particular lurch of uneasy curiosity and confusion in his stomach at the way Tessa was discussing kissing her friends, at this whole conversation. “Uncle Zachariah says that even small things can tempt one into sinning, and that doesn’t seem small...”

His doubt was audible through his words. Some part of him couldn’t help but think, _maybe if it’s true your thoughts about Dean are not just random impulses- maybe they’re just a normal desire._ Just a general desire to practice, maybe, to kiss in general that came out around his friend sometimes.

“Do you really believe everything Uncle Zach says?” Anna turned toward him to ask. “You don’t say anything anything to mom about my music taste or Gabe sneaking sweets, and isn’t that against what our family preaches? They don’t have to be 100 percent right about everything, do they?”

Castiel’s lips went dry, and his heart beat nervously. He knew what the answer to Anna’s question would be, he obviously didn’t believe everything his mother and uncle said. If he did he wouldn’t be sneaking out to see Dean, in fact, he wouldn’t be friends with Dean at all. It just seemed so hard to say it.

“I suppose not,” he managed to mutter, keeping his voice low and his eyes down. There was a brief silence across the entire table, and the conversation didn’t start up again until Tessa cleared her throat and brought up a whole new topic.

* * *

## Now

Dean tries to crack open an eyelid and is met with pain in the form of light. He quickly closes them again, groans, and rolls over. Shit.

The disorientation sets in. He’s in his dorm room, right? He’s definitely alone in bed. He tries opening his eyes again and hisses. It’s still painful, but at least he can get the left one to see a bit. There’s an ACDC poster on the wall. Probably his own room, then. Good. But what the hell happened last night? How did he even get back here?

Dean frowns with thought and his lips and a sharp pain runs through them.

“Yeah, you had a pretty busy night, didn’t you?” Benny’s voice comes from behind Dean. “That face ain’t looking so pretty right now. The hell happened, Dean? I know you go out drinking alone sometimes, but I didn’t know you’d started getting into fights now.”

“I didn’t mean to,” Dean says. Benny presses an ice pack into his hand and Dean doesn’t know whether to hold it to his eye or his forehead. He tries to hold it against both, somewhat successfully. “I was trying to hook up. I think the girl turned out to have a boyfriend... or maybe an ex-boyfriend? She convinced me to have quite a few shots dude, it gets real, uh, blurry around that time.”

“Yeah, bet you needed alotta ‘convincing’ from her,” Benny remarks, rolling his eyes. Dean has managed to turn and look at him at this point. Benny looks over directly at Dean. “Seriously, dude, this shit seems to be going a bit far. Glad you got home safe, I guess. How the hell’d you even get back here?”

“Uuuuh,” Dean tries to think. He barely remembers the fight, though for some reason he remembers getting kicked out fairly clearly. Dean remembers someone walking him home, some comforting presence... Cas! Dean jerks in surprise and all of his aches come out at once. He hisses.  

“You alright?” Benny asks.

“Yeah,” Dean responds. He manages to sound pretty calm, but inwardly he’s a bit panicked. His heart’s beating a bit faster now, and he can’t tell if that nausea is just the hangover or if a little bit of it is actually worry. He strains to remember everything, but he’s not even sure if what he does remember is real. “Don’t actually remember, though, and it’s a bit freaky. Think I blacked out.”

“That don’t sound too fun,” Benny says. “I prefer being tipsy, more myself. ‘Less you’re drinking to forget?”

“Dude,” Dean closes his eyes again. “I got so much to forget.”

“Family?” Benny asks. “Or Lisa? Or being homeless, you never really explained that.”

“God, all of it,” Dean admits. _And more,_ he adds in his head. “The family thing and the homeless thing are sorta related, technically I’ve been homeless for like... most of my life. Dad lived on the road, we went from motel to motel, yada yada yada. Pappa was a rolling stone, or maybe he wasn’t, don’t ask- But the point is Dad traveled and he took us with him.” Might as well explain all that now.

Dean still isn’t really remembering much about Cas from last night. He’s pretty certain that that actually happened. There’s the question of why Cas would help him at all, but more than that Dean worries about his own behavior. He remembers at least feeling very affectionate toward Cas, and he has to just hope that he didn’t act on it.

These thoughts are a distraction from his conversation with Benny, and Dean is answering his questions somewhat automatically.

“I guess that’s a reason to drink,” Benny says. “I’m just a bit worried about you, brother. If there’s anything else you wanna tell me, you’re free to. Anything about your family or Lisa.”

“Lisa was a shitshow, Benny. Well, she wasn’t, but our relationship was,” Dean says. It just comes out. Dean’s mind hadn’t really been on what Benny said, he’s just heard the name Lisa and responded. Dean rolls over, away from Benny. “Pretty sure she was a life lesson on relationships: Don’t.” Of course, the lies hadn’t helped that relationship, but what was Dean supposed to do? He couldn’t talk about Cas and, even if he could, how would she react to hearing that he had been in a relationship with a guy before her?

“I see you’ve been taking that advice pretty damn seriously,” Benny notes. He stays silent for a few minutes, waiting to see if Dean will say more, but Dean manages to keep his mouth shut. He’s already freaking out about whatever the hell might’ve happened with Cas, he doesn’t need to worry about saying too much to Benny.

“Well,” Benny says after a few minutes. “Just want you to know that I’m there for you, and that’s all in the past. None of them exes or fathers here now. Want me to get you some breakfast?”

“Yeah.” _No exes here now,_ he thinks, _if only._ Dean lies back down after that. He nearly straight to sleep, but still manages to say a bit more before Benny’s left for breakfast: “Benny?”

He turns back toward Dean.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime, brother.”

Dean puts his head back down. He falls  back to sleep almost immediately. In a demonstration of the cruelty of his own subconscious, Dean dreams that he and Cas are in highschool again. In the dream they’re at the fair on the dock that he and Cas visited during the second summer, but the fair is different from how it was in the real world, more complicated and darkly lit. By the time Benny comes back and wakes him up Dean had lost Cas and gotten lost himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it seems like Dean remembers some things from last night. Just not very much...
> 
> Just to note, Joan Jett is very openly queer, and this does, in fact, show in some of her friends. Two things, though: one, straight people are very, very good at assuming that songs are straight to the point of mishearing lyrics. Really, I can think of a number of songs that I have heard straight people sing inaccurately because they were, what, unwilling to hear the gay. Two, Anna has heard people in her family refer to many things as gay that were not, in fact, really gay, such as any kind of gender nonconformance, so she can't be completely blamed for not believing her mother about these things.
> 
> Ah, poor divided Cas. This is not a good environment to be figuring things out in.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean got a birthday gift, along with a speech, from his dad.
> 
> Now Dean catches up with Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot to update yesterday! I'm really sorry, things have been a little hectic on my side of things. Well, I forgot to update two days ago. Oops?
> 
> So you're going to get two chapters in a row today and tomorrow, I guess.

##  Then

Dean had made a decent number of friends at school. He had guys to hang out with and plenty of girls to date, but he wanted to keep his party small. His school connections here were like his school connections at any other of the schools he’s attended: shallow and temporary. So he invited only the summer gang: Cas, Jo, and, of course, Sam. (It would be hard not to invite Sam, even if Dean wanted to, given that they live together.)

Perhaps best of all, Dean’s father had come home the day before, January 23rd, just for Dean’s birthday. It was great: his Dad paid for a movie, Dean finally got to introduce his Dad to Cas, and John even gave them permission to taste a bit of his beer. It was hilarious to watch Sam’s face scrunch when he tasted the beer. Cas refused to try it, but Jo and got into a competition of how ridiculously they could take a sip and describe the beer.

Jo started it when she took one sip of the beer, put on a terrible Transylvanian accent, and said, “I never drink... vine.” Of course Dean had to top that. Cas was adorably confused the entire time, only Dean totally didn’t think of him that way because that’s not how Dean thinks about his male friends, not at all. Never.

They were all sitting at the little table, next to the room’s kitchenette; his father sitting across from Dean and Cas pulling up the extra corner chair up next to Dean to fit. Dean found it comforting and pleasant the way this makes him and Cas absently brush arms, but Cas was irritated by how much harder to it was check Dean’s reactions to his gifts. Dean’s face was far too expressive to miss, especially in a moment like this.

After that everyone brought up presents for Dean, three presents in a careful row (Cas had told Dean that his was a surprise for later). Dean started with Jo’s present, which turned out to be an iPod, awesomely enough.

“Vinyl and cassettes are awesome and all, but you do know that you’re allowed to have modern technology, right?” Jo asked him right after Dean managed to rip the wrapping open.

“I’ll have all the modern tech that you buy for me, Jo,” Dean said, “So you better get right on that. Chop!” Dean claps his hands.

“He’ll be expecting a laptop tomorrow,” Cas added.

“Oh God, Jo, what have you done?” Sam said. “You’ve given him technology! He’s going to implode!”

“Or just become an ordinary modern teenager,” Jo said.

“Jo,” Cas rebuked, “don’t say such things. Surely that’s impossible.”

“Dude, I am way more ordinary than you are,” Dean said to Cas. “You think I’ve forgotten about your musical genius brain?”

“Dean,” Sam started fidgeting. “Come on. Keep opening them!”

“Least the iPod’s a good color,” John said as Dean started working the wrapping on Sam’s present. “Not like that pink thing your mom brought for you.”

“My iPod is awesome!” Jo said. “Way better than Dean’s, I only bought the boring black one for him because I’d knew it’d match his personality.”

“Thanks,” Dean said sarcastically.

“Better than the white one, at least,” Sam remarked. “Those are pretty boring.”

“What-” Cas started to ask about what made one color more boring than another when Dean managed to pull the box out of Sam’s ridiculously convoluted wrapping.

Out of the box Dean pulled out what, at first glance, appeared what looked like a ball of rainbow yarn that had been given to sixty-seven kittens to play with and then hung on a black string. After studying it for a bit Cas realized that the yarn was loosely twined around a hoop. He glanced at Dean, expecting Dean to look as bemused as he was, but instead found that Dean was grinning at the thing, like that mess was made of diamonds.

“You made this yourself, didn’t you?” Dean asked Sam. “It’s got the mark of Sam Winchester yarn work.”

“Well I sure as hell hope he didn’t pay for that thing,” John said. Sam’s face fell.

“It’s supposed to be a dream catcher,” he told them. “We made them in school. Sorry, Dean, it was all I had for a present.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dean said. “It’s fucking awesome. Other dream catchers look boring compared to this one. This one’s got style, Winchester style.”

John laughed. “Sure it’s got Winchester style, it’s a mess,” he said. “Where exactly do you intend to keep that thing?”

“On the bedpost,” Dean said. “I’ll bring it with me, wherever.” He looks over at Sam. “When I get the Impala this can be like my giant dice thing.” John snorted and somehow it was this action that made Cas realize that Dean’s father was, well, not really drunk, but buzzed. Sam still relaxed and looked less guilty and more pleased, despite his father’s laugh.

“‘Long as you drive it decently, I guess,” John agreed. “You’re not getting it anytime soon though.”

Dean shrugged. “I know that.”

“Though I guess you never know,” John said. “You boys just grow so fast. Fifteen years old, that’s a pretty new thing. You’re officially a ‘young man’ now and not a boy.” Dean smiled at his father, and Cas could see the warm pride his father’s words invoked on his face. John turned to Sam. “You too kid, you’re sprouting like a bean pole. You might just end up taller than your big brother.”

“No way!” Dean said, and the rest of them laughed. “Sam is a shrimp, and he will stay a shrimp!”

“Boys have ways of growing up on you,” John said. “Speaking of which, I believe you have one last birthday gift to open.”

Dean grinned and snatched up the last gift on the table, the one from his father. It was wrapped pretty simply in dark green paper that Dean tore open easily. Inside the paper was a cardboard box holding shaving cream and a set of razors.

“Your beard hasn’t quite started sprouting yet, son, but it will,” John explained. “You’re growing right up into a man, faster than I expected, and with that will come new things and new responsibilities. New hygiene’s just gonna be a part of that, an important part of that if you’re planning on getting with any girls, which I’m sure you are.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Dean said. Cas could hear in his voice that his words were genuine. Dean felt a bit giddy and nervous about the idea of growing up, but mostly he felt really proud.

“I got more for you, Dean, outside in the car,” John said. “I’d like to give this one to him on my own if you lot would be willing to wait inside.” He got up and gestured for Dean to follow him. The rest of the party watched them walk out.

As soon as they were out the door Jo started laughing. “What girl would be lucky or unlucky enough to date Dean?” She turned to Cas. “Did he give you any hint that he was interested in anyone?”

Cas sighed, longsufferingly, and shook his head no.

Outside John popped open the trunk of his ‘67 Chevy Impala. This was probably the only place which had stayed constant all through Dean’s life. The trunk was the same familiar mess as always. From the trunk John pulled a fairly large wooden box.

He popped it open to reveal a double-barrel shotgun, brand new.

Dean’s eyes went wide. “Is that for me?”

“Yup,” John said. They had a gun in the motel room, under Dean’s bed, but it was the same old gun they’d had since Dean was little. John had taught Dean to shoot since he was really young, and he’d always left Dean the gun when he’d gone away for more than a day. It was for their protection, Dean knew not to mess with it unless he needed it. That gun was like the family gun, though, it’s for all for them. Dean hadn’t really ever had his own.

“You know, Dean,” John started to speak, “you’re much more mature than other boys your age. I know I leave you and Sam alone more than I should, and I’m sorry for that, but you’ve always been such a trooper about it. I’ve always known that I can count on you to look after your brother and be responsible. It’s what’s gonna make you a good man someday, a man whose family can count on him.”

J ohn stopped and took a ragged breath in. Dean stared at his father, absorbed by his words.

“It’s a man’s job to take care of his family, to love and protect them,” John said. “And I know I haven’t done the best job. I haven’t been the best man. Your mother died in that fire and I- I couldn’t protect her, I couldn’t save her. Mary was my wife and I failed her.” John took in another deep breath and looked directly into his son’s eyes. “You’re gonna be a better man than I am, Dean. I’m proud of that. You’re going to have a wonderful wife someday, and she’ll know that she can count on you. I am so looking forward to meeting whatever woman will become your wife, and seeing my grandchildren. I know you’re not at all ready to settle down yet, ladies’ man, and that’s how it should be, but when the time comes I want you to know how to be strong, how to protect her. And part of that will be having your own gun.” John snapped the box shut and held it out to Dean. Dean put his own hand out and John plopped the gun right into his arms. "Even if you don't ever need to use it, it means something."

“Fifteen years old already,” John mused. He put a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I know I can count on you, son.”

Dean looked up into his father’s smiling face and he knew that he should feel proud. After all, his father trusted him; his father thought he was going to be a good man. But somehow all Dean could feel was pressure in his chest, making it hard to get his words out.

“Thank you, sir,” Dean said finally. John laughed and started walking away. Dean followed him, fear gnawing at his chest. He was nowhere near as sure that he could be the man his father wanted him to be.

* * *

##  Now

“Your roommates actually sound pretty great, Dean,” Sam says. Dean leans against the wall next to his bed and laughs into his phone.

“Yeah, I’d say they are,” Dean agrees. It had been easier than he expected to tell his little brother about his friends without mentioning any of the gay stuff. Not that Dean’s ashamed of his friends or anything like that- there’s just a little too much mixed in with all that. God knows the questions Sam would have if he caught wind of the fact that Dean has, in a manner of speaking, reconnected with Cas.

“You’ve always had better taste in friends than they have had in you, though, so that’s not really surprising,” Sam comments.

“Jokes on you, your girlfriend’s just the same,” Dean says.

“Well, I do know that already,” Sam says, somehow managing a smug tone like the little smartass he is. Every cent Dean spends on this crappy little burner cell is worth this conversation.

“You better,” Dean says. “Just do better than I’d do, Sam. Just think ‘What would Dean do?’ and do the exact opposite. That’s how you’ll keep Jess.”

“Jess mostly keeps herself,” Sam says, “I’m just here as long as she tolerates me. Also, you’re not  _ that  _ bad. I mean, okay, beginning of high school you were single and middle of high school you were, well, terrible, but you gotta stop blaming yourself for Lisa. Sometimes relationships just fall apart, and it’s no one’s-”

“How about we talk about something other than your older brother’s failed relationship?” Dean asks. “God, why is everyone asking so fucking much about Lisa these days?” Though, Dean supposes, it’s better for them to ask about Lisa than about anyone else. She’s one easy out for his relationship issues.

“Fine,” Sam says. He hesitates a moment and Dean knows that whatever he says next isn’t gonna be good.

“Should’ve known you’d take that as an opportunity to jump to a worse topic,” Dean mutters. “Just spit it out Sam, whatever you’re gonna say.”

“I called Adam today,” Sam says.

“What?” Dean asks.

“Adam,” Sam explains. “You know, Adam Milligan, Dad’s  _ other _ son?”

“Yeah, I know who he is,” Dean snaps. “What are you doing calling him?”

“Oh come on, Dean, it’s not his fault,” Sam says. “He’s dealing with the same shit we are.”

_ I doubt it,  _ Dean thinks bitterly. Out loud he asks, “That why you called him?”

“Sorta,” Sam answers, after a moment.

“You could’ve called me for that,” Dean says. He leans his head against the wall. “You know I’m there, whenever you call, right?”

“I know,” Sam says. Mercifully he doesn’t mention how little use Dean would be for conversation when he drinks. Maybe it just doesn’t occur to him- now that Dean’s off at college there’s no reason for Sam to know about that. “That’s not the only reason I wanted to call him, though. I just- I wanted to know, Dean.”

“The fuck is there to know?” Dean asks. “He was a shit dad with two families. It happens. Happens to us, apparently.”

“Yeah, but most people with two families tell them,” Sam says. “I mean, I guess I can see how that wouldn’t go over well, telling his girlfriend that his wife just died, but he must have known that it wouldn’t have gone on forever. I know he’s dead, and it doesn’t really matter now but it still bothers me. Why hide it from us, why leave us in those shitty motels when he had a house to live in half the time? Was that really better than lying?”

“He was ashamed, Sam,” Dean explains tiredly. “Hell, he was right to be. He cheated on his wife without telling either woman and then his wife died, and he was ashamed. It’s a shitty excuse and it doesn’t excuse how fucked up lying was, but it was why.”

Dean doesn’t like to compare himself and his Dad, and he definitely doesn’t like to think that he ever was as bad as his father, but he’d be lying to say he doesn’t understand. His father was ashamed, probably because he felt like he was cheating on Mary in some fucked up way, probably because he had cheated on Mary when she was still alive, though it doesn’t matter. His father was ashamed and Dean can’t say that he’s never felt the same way.

After a few moments of silence Dean realizes that was probably a bit too harsh. Damn it. Usually he’s better than this with Sam, all this recent shit with Cas has screwed with him too much.

“He was probably ashamed about us, too,” Dean decides to say after a moment. “He loved us, you know, and he probably felt ashamed about making us live badly. Then the longer it went on the harder it was to tell us. Doesn’t make it right but it is what it is, Sammy.”

“Don’t call me Sammy,” Sam tells Dean through the phone, but something in his tone makes Dean feel like he’s been forgiven. Sam just thinks he’s too old for “Sammy” now, but Dean knows better. He’ll never be too old to outgrow “Sammy” to Dean. There's a moment of silence on both sides of the call.

“Did speaking with Adam make you feel better?” Dean asks.

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Sorta. I think I’m gonna call him again.”

“If it makes you feel better then I’m glad that you’ll call him again,” Dean says. “Though I gotta give you a warning- I know how jealous of me you are because I got a little brother, but since I got the best little brother you really shouldn’t even try to compete. I mean, I just plain old won the little brother game.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, Dean,” Sam says, but he still laughs and Dean smiles.

“You have your homework for tonight done?” Dean asks.

“Most of it, yeah,” Sam evades.

“‘Most of it’?” Dean asks. “If you only got most of it done then what’re you doing blabbering to me on the phone? Go finish it! You’re gonna get into Harvard, or Stanford, or someplace, remember?”

“I’m not gonna just get in, I’m gonna get in with a free ride,” Sam says. It’s a joke, but Dean thinks he could.

“You better not, I’m gonna need someplace to spend all the money I’m gonna get from my fancy smancy engineering degree,” Dean says. “But seriously, dude, get to work.”

“Fine,” Sam sighs. “‘Bye, Dean.”

“Goodbye, Sammy,” Dean says. “Talk to you later. Say goodnight to Bobby for me.”

“I will,” Sam says. “Goodnight.”  

After Sam hangs up Dean just stares at the ceiling. He wonders why he hasn’t told Benny, Victor or Garth about his dead Dad’s second family. It’s a personal thing, but it’s the type of thing you mention to friends that are worried about you, right? It’s just that it seems so hard to communicate.

It’s so much more than the lies or the fact that John had been cheating on their mother. It was the motel rooms. It was the negligence. It was lying to social services. It was raising his little brother because Dad wasn’t there and then learning that there was a whole ‘nother kid out there that he  _ had _ been taking care of.

Dean rolls over and stares at the phone in his hand. Even before he’d learned about his Dad’s girlfriend and her son he didn’t talk about that sort of thing. The only person he’d ever talked about it, all of it, even the emotional bits of it, was Cas, and obviously its been awhile since then. Dean closes his eyes.

He knows that Cas is an asshole, he knows that no matter what happened the night before Cas isn’t gonna want to hear from him, he knows that Cas has his own shit to deal with, and he knows that there isn’t really a way to talk to Cas even if he wanted to. Somehow all this doesn’t stop Dean from wishing he could just walk over to Cas’s dorm and spill everything.

Dean longs for the way Cas could listen, the way he’d keep his eyes on Dean and nod attentively and seem interested no matter what Dean talked about or for how long he talked. There was a time when Cas’s ear and reassurance was felt like the most certain things in Dean’s life and, god, did Dean wish he still had it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John tried. Sorta. Now Dean just deals with the baggage and tries to never think about it.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas gave Dean his own, special birthday gift.
> 
> Now Castiel runs into Alastair spray painting the Pride Center building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so winter break travel and all that has been hectic, and I had some trouble writing this chapter, so this'll be my second late chapter in a row. At least it's only two days late. Anyway, I really should be back on track after this. Sorry for the delay!
> 
> WARNINGS FOR "NOW" SECTION: violence, threats, homophobia, homophobic language, slurs, f-slur
> 
> If you want to skip the Now section because of the homophobia and violence then I'll have a brief summary of what happened in my End Notes. I wasn't sure whether or not to tag the violence, because I wasn't really sure what counts as graphic depictions of violence and because no characters are seriously injured.

##  Then

After Dean and his father walked back in Cas decided to make the announcement about his birthday present to Dean. Jo’s mom had texted saying she was getting picked up soon, Sam was getting drowsy, and overall Cas felt that the timing was as good as it was going to be. Dean was just saying goodbye to Jo when Cas decided to make his move.

“Hello, um, Mr. Winchester, sir,” Cas stumbled out his first words. “I have a present for Dean too, but it’s at my house. It’s a, ah, surprise. Could Dean and I go to pick it up?”

“Party looks like it’s winding down anyway,” John said, “but it is pretty cold out. Dean’s used to colder, though, and, as I understand it, you’re the reason why Dean’s not failing English class, so you seem pretty responsible. Go on out.”

“Well, Dean worked very hard as well, my tutoring helped, but it’s not like I’m the sole reason why-” Cas said.

“Who cares?” Dean interrupted. “C’mon, Cas.” He grabbed Cas’s arm and waved bye to Jo and Sam. Jo laughed as Dean dragged him out the door.

They started the familiar walk between their homes, feet falling into a rhythm together. As they walked they spoke, as they almost always did.

“What did your father give you?” Cas asked.

“A gun,” Dean said. Cas was silent for a moment, surprised by this.

“Are you... joking?” Cas asked.

“Nope,” Dean confirmed. “It came with a big ol’ speech too. About how I’m growing up, and how I’m gonna be a man and have a family to protect one day.”

Cas was silent for a moment, again, trying to find the right words. Dean’s tone was, well, not exactly natural, but very hard to read. Dean’s words brought up some future time in which Cas knew it was unlikely that they would still know each other. The thought was an unsettling one that Cas decided to avoid, hoping Dean would do the same. 

“I suppose this is true,” Cas acknowledged.

“I just...” Dean said. “There’s a lot of pressure from him to- to- I don’t know. I’m not sure I really want to talk about this right now.”

“That’s alright,” Cas said. “You’re not obligated to.”

They both let the quiet of the night invade their conversation for a moment. There was the sound of cars up the road and both their footsteps on the sidewalk.

“What’s your present?” Dean asked.

“It’s a surprise, Dean,” Cas said. “This is an integral part of the present-giving tradition. I thought you understood that.”

“Don’t be a little shit, Cas,” Dean said.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m only trying to be clear,” Cas said. He could play-off straight-faced humor as well as any British comedian. Dean snorted.

“You’ll find out about my present soon enough,” Cas said. Dean tried to cajole hints out of him for the rest of their walk there, but it was to no avail. Cas just smiled.

When they got there Cas stopped Dean at the foot of his driveway. He took Dean’s hand and led him in the front yard. Trees surrounded Castiel’s house, and it had quite the yard to hold these trees. It was in a suburban neighborhood, technically, and the streetlights still covered the sidewalks. The house was far enough up to have privacy from the streets, though, and the direct beams of the streetlights didn’t seem to reach that far.

With all of this knowledge in mind, Cas led Dean to a specific spot in his yard that he had chosen previously. It was close enough to the streets to be fairly well lit, far enough from the house to be invisible to the windows, and far enough into the yard to at least seem private and natural. It was the best spot Cas could find.

Cas motioned for Dean to wait and went up to the house.

Dean hugged his arms to his chest and fidgeted a bit in the cold. He hoped Cas would come back soon- it seemed like he was taking forever. Dean knew that it always seemed to take longer when he was the one waiting, but he was sure it was taking longer than it should have to for Cas to come back. Dean spent the first bit few minutes just shivering in the cold, before getting bored. The he started drawing in the snow with his foot. He tried to draw Cas’s face but it was all wrong. Finally Dean heard a noise, looked up, and saw immediately why Cas had taken so long.

“You climbed down with  _ that? _ ” Dean asked. Cas’s guitar was in his arms, the strap around his neck, and he was playing a few notes absentmindedly. He was tuning it.

“Yes,” Cas responded simply. He continued to tune.

“Well, Cas, what do you have for me today?” Dean asked. Cas glanced up at him, smiled. Cas paused after tuning, and started to play.

Almost as soon as Cas began to strum Dean recognized the tune. Cas jumped right into it, strumming quickly and and almost throwing his whole body into the motions. Dean just watched, mesmerized. He didn’t even really register the trees surrounding them anymore, only Cas playing, not just playing but really getting into, the intro to one of Dean’s two favorite songs. Dean had never seen Cas play anything that wasn’t classical or religious before. Cas wasn’t allowed to play anything else and they never had an instrument outside of his house. This was the first time Dean has really seen Cas rebel in his music, and it was more than he could have asked for. 

Cas quieted his guitar when it was time to sing the lyrics. The intro had filled Dean with emotions and thoughts almost instantly, but it was over so soon. 

“Leaves are falling all around,” Cas began, his voice lower than the original version. It worked, somehow. “It's time I was on my way…”

Now Dean was never much for remakes or covers of songs. He could enjoy them but he never thought that they were never really as good as the original. That belief was somewhat shattered as he heard Cas sing the familiar words. Something about Cas’s voice… it just… Dean felt emotion rise in his chest, strong and pure, and he couldn’t fully describe them. 

“Ramble on!” Cas shout-sang. “And now's the time, the time is now, to sing my song. I'm goin' 'round the world, I got to find my girl!”

Then Cas hit the chorus, and his volume went up like he could put all the rocking of the song into the sound of his voice. And honestly, he sorta could, at least to Dean’s ears and eyes. He watched Cas move with the song, dancing unconsciously with his playing. It should’ve been dorky and awkward, to all objective measures it would be, and yet Dean found himself moving along. He just felt called, lost in the moment enough with Cas to not care how it looked. To just be. Cas kept on. 

“I guess I keep on rambling, I'm gonna, yeah, yeah, yeah,” Cas sang, eyes closed and swaying a bit. Then he opened his eyes, full and wide and blue as only he could, “Sing my song,” and then he pointed at Dean, and Dean went stock still in response, “I gotta find my baby!” 

_ Did he just call me his baby?  _ Dean wondered giddily. He felt like the music was too far into his head to think clearly, and he felt only excited at the thought. His heart pounded, starting back up again. 

Cas got along to the parts of the songs where there would be an “Ooooh” or and “Aaah” or notes stretched out and he went with the same gusto as the rest of the song. He kept his eyes closed half the time, and the other half he stared Dean down with sweat on his forehead despite the cold and the most intense eyes Dean had ever found on someone half lost to the music. Maybe it was because he was so lost to the music. 

“I keep rambling baby, baby, baby, baby, baby…” Cas faded out, repeating the final lyric. He seemed to shrink as he lowered his volume, and ended with his head low and his hair falling over his face.

Dean stared, unable to speak. In the silence his thoughts took over, too loud and too free. He realized he was half hard and sorta wanted to cry at the same time. What the fuck was his body doing?

_ He did that whole performance for me,  _ Dean thought.

_ I love him,  _ Dean thought. 

_ Shit.  _

“Dean?” Cas asked. He pulled his head up to give Dean a cautious look, his self-consciousness back with the silence. “Did you like it?”

Dean was speechless still, only staring at Cas. Realization was hitting him like a ton of bricks, panic was starting to kick in. 

“Dean?” Cas prompted again. He looked away and pulled at his hair. “It’s okay if you didn’t.” 

His body language spoke completely differently from his words, Cas looked like he was about to fall inwards on himself. It wasn’t his fault, but Dean still couldn’t find words. He had to do  _ something _ , though, he couldn’t just stand and watch Cas be crushed by the silence. 

Dean surged forward, wrapping Cas’s shoulders in a hug. 

Cas, completely surprised, did nothing but start and hold his guitar back instinctively to protect it. Dean just held on, and listened to their heartbeats, both beating fast, each one just off the other’s rhythm. He couldn’t really tell whose was whose. 

He held Cas for a few more moments, neither of them speaking, and they both calmed down. Then Dean let go. Both of them stared at each. 

_ I love him,  _ Dean thought. Then he bolted, running through the woods away from Cas. 

“Dean?” He heard Cas call after him. He didn’t stop running until he’d made it a third of the way home. His breath misted, visible in the streetlight, and Dean rested on his knees trying to catch his breath and his thoughts. 

It wasn’t until the next day that Dean was able to tell Cas how much he had enjoyed his birthday present. Cas was confused, but didn’t press it.

Eventually Cas seemed to forget about Dean’s odd reaction, but Dean never did.

Now he knew.

* * *

 

##  Now

If Castiel were the type to mutter angrily under his breath, then he would be muttering very angrily right now. Alastair was left behind to gather up and transport everything from their dorm’s most recent flier campaign, and he was taking his sweet time in doing so. He’s taken so much of his sweet time, in fact, that Castiel has been sent to waste some of his own and hurry him up. 

It isn’t always great to be at the bottom of the heap. Well, technically Balthazar is at the bottom, but they can’t get Balthazar to do anything, so Cas knows it doesn’t count. 

So it’s Castiel who gets to discover Alastair standing next to the flier box, already all packed up, spray painting the side of the building. He’d gotten through the “You Are Going To” part, and is working on the “H” in “Hell”. 

As soon as his brain registers what’s happening Castiel stops walking. He stands and stares. A thousand irrelevant questions go through his mind. Where did Alastair get the spray paint? This part of the building is rather secluded, it’s blocked from street by an outcropping part of the building, but why was Alastair willing to risk doing this in the middle of the day? Why must every single word be capitalized? 

The irrelevent questions must have been his brain’s way of procrastinating, because once Castiel runs out of questions that don’t matter, he has to deal with the question that does matter. What will he, Castiel, do?

He starts by clearing his throat, which makes Alastair turn and look back at him. With Alastair’s cold, borderline contemptuous, eyes now on him, Castiel realizes he has nothing to say. So they stand in a strangely awkward silence for a moment. The whole thing feels so surreal. 

For one terrifying instant Castiel gets the urge to ask, “So I’m going to Hell, right?”

All he manages to do is nod at Alastair. He looks back at the wall, red letters on it, and another question hits him. He’s honestly not sure if it goes into the “meaningful” or “meaningless” category. It’s literally a question of meaning: What does that mean? What are the implications behind it? More than that, what do those implication mean about Castiel? 

What it means is that Castiel is going to Hell. He knows, and there’s no reason to out himself asking about it. It means he’ll see Meg and Dean, and many others that they care about, down there with him. The thought causes something less like angry words and more like nausea to rise up his throat and sting the back of his mouth. It’s not just the words themselves, it’s that Castiel has already stated his implicit agreement with these words, both through his actions and through his social group. After all, the person writing these words is someone who, due to the obligations and structures of his social group, would be assumed by any reasonable outsider to be Castiel’s friend. 

“Well?” Alastair asks, and Castiel turns back toward him. “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing?” Castiel asks in return. Alastair narrows his eyes and studies Castiel.

“I’m directly promoting our cause, Castiel,” Alastair says. “I’m spreading information; I’m warning. Are you going to answer my question?”

“The rest want to know where you’ve been,” Castiel answers. “It’s time to go back.”

“I’m not done here,” Alastair says. He turns away, and starts shaking the can in his hand. “Still got a couple words left here. Not even sure that’ll be enough. Think I should spray over the windows, too? Or maybe that’s too much work. I could always just throw a brick through one.” Alastair speaks idly, but with every word Castiel tenses up further. “Tell them I still got a couple more chores to do. I think I can trust you not to tell on me.” He gives Castiel a backwards glance. “You don’t tell anything at all, now, do you?”

Alastair starts spraying again. It looks like “hell” will be in all caps. Castiel just stands there, making no motion to suggest he might leave. He knows he should move; this is not just none of his business, it’s trouble beyond his pay grade. There’s nothing quiet he could do to stop this. 

Yet he can’t bring himself to move. The look Meg gave him just days ago comes up in his mind as though it’s been preserved for the ages. Not the look of disgust or disappointment she gave him, but the very first look. The cracked one, cracked with fear and anger and open like a bloody split lip. He wonders what look she’ll give this when she sees it. Would she be afraid, if she saw that someone put a brick through the place where she worked, the place she probably considers safe? She would be angry, Castiel knew that, but it would be anger from pain. 

Just like the pain he caused her, when she still thought he was her friend. 

“You shouldn’t be doing this,” Castiel says aloud. Alastair stops, every muscle freezing at once, and he turns around completely. 

“Why are you still here?” he asks. “I thought I told you to go back to the rest of them.”

“This is school property,” Castiel says. He desperately searches his mind for something he can use to convince Alastair to stop, something Alastair would actually care about. “It’s not just against the university rules- this is vandalism. It’s against the law.”

“And?” Alastair asks. “Do you think the law will really care?”

“Do you really want to be involved in a scandal, this early on?” Castiel shoots back. “Do you think any of our roommates want to be associated with a college scandal, a vandalism arrest, maybe even a hate crime arrest? Uriel has been considering changing his major to political science. Do you think this is how he wants to start his career?” Castiel isn’t sure whether or not Alastair really cares about the other members of their living community, but he’s sure Alastair cares about how they treat him. 

Alister pulls his face into an all out glare. He takes a step forward toward Castiel, who is rooted to the spot by some combination of righteous anger and paralyzing fear. Alastair pulls himself up like a cobra, and he eyes Castiel like a mouse. Alastair seems taller than him, and between that and his accelerating heart rate, Castiel certainly feels a bit like a mouse. But he doesn’t move. He’s not sure he can.

“There won’t be a scandal, because I won’t be arrested,” Alastair hisses. He continues to approach Castiel, until he’s standing within striking range. “The campus police won’t know who did it, and no matter our fliers, they won’t blame us. There’s a decent homeless population, a number of unstable kids on campus, and a small group of excellent students with wealthy parents who peacefully express their political opinions. Do you really think I, of anyone, will be going down for this?”

Castiel tries to swallow down the lump in his throat. He could just stay silent, shake his head, go home. Alastair would remember, but he wouldn’t do anything. Castiel could just do what he’s supposed to do, and be a coward.  _ Coward.  _

Castiel tries to look anywhere but Alastair’s eyes, and he ends up staring at the wall behind him. Alastair had finished writing “HELL,” before he walked over, and had been starting on an “F”.  _ Faggot.  _

Castiel could at least choose not to be one of those things. He looks back at Alastair, straight into his dead eyes. 

“You will be going down for this,” Castiel says, “because I will tell them who did it. I will tell the cops and I will tell our dormmates. But you can go back and spray over what you’ve already written, and I can pretend I didn’t see this.”

“Sure, I’ll do that. I can always just stroll on back here later. How will you stop me?” Alastair asks. “Planning to stalk me?”

“I don’t need to,” Castiel lowers his voice. He pulls himself up. He matches Alastair’s unrelenting stare. “If anything happens here, I’ll know who did it.”

Alastair pulls back his lips in a thin smile. He shakes his head like Castiel just told a bad joke. Then he pulls back a little bit, and punches Castiel in the face. 

Castiel goes over backwards, scraping his wrist trying to catch himself. His leg scrapes against the metal handle of the box of fliers by his feet, but he doesn’t even feel it. Alastair takes the opportunity to kick him in the chest, and Castiel goes down completely with a smack to the back of his head. He looks up at Alastair, whose lips are pulled back into a snarl with a hint of teeth. It’s an image that burns into Castiel’s mind, Alastair looking down on him, tall as a building and merciless as nature. 

Alastair pulls back, and this time when his foot slams into his ribs Castiel catches it, and pulls. Alastair goes down himself, slapping the pavement harder than Castiel did. 

Castiel looks over at him, now brought down to the same level. Alastair is pulling himself up slowly, obviously smarting. He curls his face into a snarl at Castiel once more, but it’s no longer impressive. Castiel leans forward to stare him down. 

“Hitting me won’t make me be quiet,” he informs Alastair. “I know what I know. This scribbling better be gone by morning, or, hit me all you want, I’m calling the police.”

“I think I liked it better when you were quiet,” Alastair says. “We all tolerated you when you knew the best thing you could do for the world was be quiet and pretend you weren’t there. Better let me lie to the boys and keep your trap shut, I don’t think they’ll like your scratchy little voice any more than I do.”

Castiel only glares at Alastair in return. He knows Dean or Meg would say “Fuck you”, but he isn’t used to swearing, and Alastair is right. Their dormmates don’t want to hear about this, they want plausible deniability. 

“You snake,” Castiel manages to spit out. “Demon. Abomination.”

Alastair laughs. “Think you got me mixed up with your friends here,” he says. “Ready to run home and lie?”

The answer to that question is no. The answer to that question is the nausea in Castiel’s stomach, and the reluctance in his limbs. The answer to that question is Castiel walking off in the opposite direction, because he’s pretty sure that if he spends one more second in Alastair’s presence he is going to deck him, and Alastair would win that fight. He stands up and starts to head away -- though he isn’t yet sure where he should, or can, go right now. His face hurts.

Alastair laughs behind him. “Where do you think you’re going, to your ‘boyfriend’? Got another home, faggot defense squad? Want to take a bit to fuck yourself before crawling back to us?”

Castiel ignores him, but as Alastair continues to yell after him Castiel picks up the pace. He goes from walking, to jogging, to running, to flat out sprinting away from Alastair’s taunts. He’s not just running from Alastair’s bullying, he’s running from what he’s just done. From the lies that fueled it to the consequences sure to come down the road, to the pain of his own body, there is plenty that Castiel cannot run from.

But for now he can try, and it’s better than staying still and hearing Alastair’s voice behind him. He has enough voices to echo in his ears. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, Cas makes brave moves both Then and Now. For Dean the Then section is that feel when you realize you're in love with your best friend. 
> 
> The song Castiel sings and plays in the Then section is "Ramble On" by Led Zepplin, one of Dean's two favorite songs.   
> [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S0NFaQcTJsg) is the song with lyrics, and [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UUqvBseP12U) is an acoustic cover of the kind Cas would be playing.
> 
> Summary of Now Section: 
> 
> Castiel goes back to the Campus LGBT Center to get Alastair, and finds him graffiting the place with hateful language. He confronts Alastair and says that he'll inform campus authorities and get Alastair in trouble if he does this. Alastair hits him, but he tells Alastair it doesn't matter, Cas still knows what he's doing. Cas tells him to cross out what he wrote, and Alastair insults and threatens him more. Cas doesn't want to hear any more of it, and he leaves. Alastair yells after him and Cas starts running.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then the tension broke in the Novak household.
> 
> Now Castiel is driven to do something he doesn’t want to in the aftermath of his fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I almost forgot to post, but I didn't! That makes me officially back on schedule with the updates. Hannukah starts on the 24th this year, so happy Hannukah before next update (and during next update)!

## Then

Michael had ushered them all upstairs at their mother’s command, after Lucifer had started yelling. The tension had broken loose, the way they all had known it would.

It hadn’t been having to get his food from the kitchen another night, walking to and from the kitchen door right past the table where they all sat and ignored him. It hadn’t been the complete disregard and silent treatment from Naomi. It hadn’t even been the fact that Michael had left without him at school today after Naomi called him and told him to leave early with the rest of them and Lucifer had to walk home.

No, it had been the salt.

Lucifer went quietly through the dining room into the kitchen, got his food, and left. He’d been less confrontational since coming back from military school, perhaps because there was less to confront in their mother’s avoidance of him. He played music too loud, came in late at night, skipped school to smoke, and generally continued the same behavior as beforehand, but he didn’t fight. Often if he was asked straight out to stop doing these things he would, but now that Naomi was ignoring him there was no one to ask him to do that besides Michael.

It seemed as though Naomi’s strategy was working, then, in it’s own way. Until the salt.

It had been earlier that day that Lucifer had been left at school and had to walk home. He’d come home late and tired, that could be seen in his posture no matter how hard Castiel tried to look elsewhere. He seemed nearly broken, quietly dragging himself to and from the kitchen. They were having chicken that night.

As Lucifer passed by he stopped at Gabriel and nudged him.

“Salt,” he requested, and Gabriel reached forward to grab it. He stopped reaching when Naomi spoke.

“Gabriel, I’d like the salt for a moment, please,” she said. Castiel had no idea if she actually wanted the salt and it was just bad timing or if it was another tiny punishment. Nothing in her voice seemed to indicate that it was anything but sincere. Lucifer, however, took it as another passive aggressive assault.

“You can have the salt WHEN I’M FUCKIN DONE WITH IT,” his voice crescendoed suddenly as a spoke. Weeks, in another way years, worth of frustration was behind that scream.

Now Castiel was in his room, listening to the screaming downstairs. It was worse than it had been before. He laid on his bed, closed his eyes, and tried to hum. There was a loud crash downstairs that caused Castiel to jolt. After a few moments of silence for whatever had happened his mother screamed, and the yelling was back on. Castiel began to hum again.

Both the screaming and his humming were interrupted by a knock at the door.

Castiel’s eyes blinked open and he sat up to look at his door. Naomi and Michael were both downstairs, and there wasn’t any reason to believe that he had done anything wrong, so why would they be checking on him?

The door opened slowly despite Castiel’s lack of response, and Gabriel peered through.

“Hey,” Gabriel said. The yelling downstairs continued underneath the sound of his voice. Castiel watched him curiously. “Hey- uh, hey. You okay?”

Castiel gave a small nod; it was the best he could muster up. Gabriel gave a small smile in return, obviously the best of his efforts as well.

“No, you’re not,” Gabriel said. He sighed. “Remember, little bro, when you were younger and I’d come in and hold your hand when the fighting got really bad? When I was a good big brother?”

Castiel did. It hadn’t happened in years. Still.

“You’re still a good big brother,” Castiel said. “You still try to comfort me, when you can.”

“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “I could do better, though. Here, I’ll make up for it. Come with me?”

Castiel barely hesitated before answering. “Sure,” he agreed, and he followed Gabriel out the door.

Gabriel led Castiel into his room, and then out the window there. Castiel followed without fear- at this point climbing out of windows was almost second nature to him. Gabriel, however, didn’t try to climb down to the yard and leave. He just plopped himself right down on the roof. Castiel followed suit.

Gabriel’s closed door and the walls around the window muffled the voices inside the house. The weather was just a little too brisk for this and Castiel felt goose bumps rise on his skin, but he didn’t mind too much yet. The stars above were fairly clear, their town wasn’t large enough to have too much light pollution, and altogether Castiel found more peace here than he had had all day.

 _I should do this with Dean,_ Castiel thought. _We should stargaze together when the weather turns._

Gabriel spoke.

“You don’t deserve this, you know,” he looked down. “None of us do.”

He paused as though waiting for Castiel to speak, but of course this didn’t happen.

“Lucifer did this for me when I was younger,” Gabriel continued. “When Mom and Dad used to fight. They don’t anymore, I don’t know if you’d remember. Dad just stays away. It’s like a soft divorce.”

“I remember a bit...” Castiel said. “I think.”

“I’m not the best big brother ever,” Gabriel chuckled. “Pretty fucking terrible by movie brothers, actually. I don’t protect you at school, I sure as hell don’t stand up for you here, and I can’t play sports- ah, well. You just- you always seem like you’re alright. You don’t really react to things, you just have your music.”

Gabriel gazed back up at the sky.

“I guess that means you’re just as fucked up as the rest of us, in a different way. Hope it’s easier.”

“It is,” Castiel said. “I think it is.” Gabriel gave him a nod for this. Castiel followed his gaze up to the stars.

“I just wanted you to know,” Gabriel said. “I’ll try to be there for you. I’m not the boldest or the bravest, but I’m your big brother, and you can come to me if you need to. You’re definitely more of a model child than me or Anna or Lucy down there, but-”

“I’m not,” Castiel interrupted. Once he started speaking the words flooded out in one breath. “I’m not... a model child. I- Gabriel, I’ve been sneaking out. I made friends with that boy who was kicked out of our Bible studies group. I sneak out and we watch TV and I’m tutoring him in English, and sometimes he sneaks in and we hang out.” Castiel anxiously watched for Gabriel’s response out of the corner of his eye. He knew that Gabriel wouldn’t disapprove, but still, some part of him worried.

Gabriel just looked over at him and smiled.

“Having him hang out in your room is a terrible idea,” he said. “I mean, I guess mother doesn’t randomly check your room like Anneal’s or Lucifer’s, but she still may barge in. It’s not like we’ve got locks. You should, like, have an immediate plan to shove him in the closet or something in case you hear her.”

Castiel nodded, and took a note in his mind.

“You mean you don’t... disapprove?” Cas asked.

“What’s there to disapprove of?” Gabriel said. “He couldn’t possibly be more of a jerk than my friends are. Anyway, you need a friend. It’s good for you. Your secret’s safe with me, Cassie. Cross my heart.” He made a motion to cross his heart, and gave Castiel a wink. “This is what I mean, when I say you can come to me, you know, if you really need to. Even after I go to college, I’m just one call away. I’m your big bro, and I’ll be there.”

Castiel gave Gabriel a weak smile and another nod. His chest felt hollow, and he wasn’t sure if it was because he believed it or because he didn’t. Still, he felt warmer and more re-assured at the support. He felt like one day he might be able to believe it.

He and Gabriel stayed on the roof and talked. Mostly Gabriel spoke to him, but Castiel got quite a few things in, compared to his usual level of communication in this house. They crawled back inside after the noise from downstairs stopped.

Castiel snuck down the hall back to his own room. His face burned with difference between the heat inside the house and the chilly night air. It felt refreshing to him. As he carefully closed his bedroom door behind himself and started to prepare for bed he realized that this was the safest he’d felt in his own home for... a while, at least.

* * *

 

## Now

Castiel skids around a corner and keeps running. His lungs hurt, his head hurts, and he can’t think clearly enough to consider where he’s running to, but he is running. He doesn’t even really see what’s around him, he just runs.

Everything is sensation: the feeling of his feet hitting the ground, the grinding aches of running along with the sharp pain of his injuries, the feeling of the wind on his skin, and the sound of his breath and heartbeat. He keeps running until his legs grow too heavy to keep going. He slows, stumbles, and stops.

He feels like he’s going to throw up. He bends down, hands resting against his thighs, holding his torso up a bit. Castiel focuses on just breathing, through the pain and nausea. The nausea slowly goes away, but the pain does not. His nose might be broken.

Now Castiel manages to look up and around. He has no idea which part of the city he’s in. There are shops lining the sidewalks, but they’re unfamiliar and mostly closed at this hour- they’re smaller, local shops, mostly, not chain stores. He doesn’t even know how far he ran; it seemed pretty far, but Castiel is hardly athletic, and he doesn’t really run. Well, he doesn’t physically, literally go on runs. He has to admit that recent events clearly show that he does run away in general.

Castiel shakes his head to clear it, but this only brings a wave of pain from his nose. It’s bleeding all down his shirt, he has no idea what to do- he needs help. He’s going to have to either go back to his dorm, with Alastair and Uriel, tonight or find help from somewhere else.

 _Ah, yes,_ Castiel thinks, _It’s time to mobilize my large network of friends and contacts._ A bitter laugh bubbles up from inside him, but it turns into a yelp quickly due to his nose. It’s definitely broken.

He goes off to the side of the walkway and pulls out his phone. He can at least find out where he is, even if it won’t do him any good. He goes through his phone, absentmindedly flipping through his contacts. It seems hard to think or concentrate right now, perhaps he has a concussion; he hopes not. A number sticks out to him and he stops.

He’d put the number Dean gave him as a contact. It’s entitled “Don’t Call” but he’d kept it. Castiel wonders how he foresaw the need to remind himself not to call that number, because God know he wants to right now. He wants Dean, young Dean or college Dean it doesn’t matter. He just wants Dean to come, to be here and to listen to him about what happened, to be righteous and protective of him and to hold him. The thought of Dean being here to give him a hug, to just hold him and give him the smallest bit of comfort, makes the night air seem colder in comparison.

Despite every single logical thought in his head Cas dials the number.

He holds up the phone and listens to it, and with every ring the anticipation and anxiety tightens more in his stomach. What Dean say? What will _he_ say, to Dean?

It seems like an eternity before the ringing stops.

“Hey,” a familiar voice says. “Uh, it’s Dean. Who’s this?”

Cas snaps the phone shut immediately, without thinking. Slight panic, along with a number of other indecipherable background emotions, run through him. He can’t call Dean. He can’t speak to Dean. What could he have possibly been thinking? The phone trembles in Castiel’s hand, and he closes his eyes. Dean couldn’t do anything, anyway. He probably doesn’t have his car, if he did Castiel would have seen it by now. Even if Dean was willing to forget, even if Cas managed to speak clearly and communicate what happened (an improbable thing, given his state), Cas would just have to sit and wait here for Dean. Though a part of him still longed for the comfort Dean would bring- the comfort Dean _used_ to bring, he reminds himself- he knows there’s no way this call would work out.

Castiel would have to do something else. A sudden throb of pain from his nose reminds him of what his priority should be: first aid.

He might be able to go to Urgent Care and use his student insurance- he might even be able to use it without notifying his family. Hopefully there’ll be some health service building within walking distance, but even then, what about after? Where will he spend tonight?

Castiel takes a breath and puts that question out of his mind. He searches for nearby health services in his phone, and finds the the closest one is all the way on the other side of campus, nearly a half-hour walk from where he is. He frowns, then winces at the way his nose protests at any facial expressions. This is his best option, so he steels himself and starts walking.

As Castiel walks he discovers a number of pains that hadn’t seemed to be there when he was running. His ribs ache constantly, and the ache is occasionally interrupted with a sudden burst of edged, clear pain. Some place on the back of his skull has a low, steady throb going. His left shin is at least bruised. His hands are sore and he discovers bits of broken glass that he must’ve fallen back on in his right palm. It seems like his whole body throbs, and it doesn’t get any better as he keeps walking.

He follows the progress of the little blue dot Google Maps uses to represent him, and it almost seems like it’s standing in place. It’s moving painfully slowly, and the minutes of travel time seem like hours. He hits a cross walk and has to wait for a minute, and he finds himself grinding his teeth in frustration. The impatience almost seems like a physical pain of it’s own, and Castiel digs his fingernails into his left palm. It’s hard to tell what’s physical and what’s emotional at this point, it’s all blended together.

If he had been having even a slightly less horrible time in his walk, then Castiel would have never looked twice at his brother’s club when he passed it. The walls of the Trickster’s Den are completely black in the dark of the night, but florescent light spills from the entryway. A bouncer waves people in, and every time someone enters the slight sound of pop music from the inside becomes loud enough to hear from across the street. Castiel stops and stares at the building, conflict rising inside him.

It’s right there. His brother is probably inside somewhere, and he’d probably be willing to give Castiel some help. He could have pain killers and if not a car for Castiel to ride to the Urgent Care in, probably at least friends with cars. Castiel is so very tired, bone tired on top of and because of everything else.

Yet, despite all this, he hesitates. The last thing Castiel wants right now is to see his brother. In fact, one of the last thing Castiel thinks he wants to do ever is to see his brother. He shouldn’t even be considering it.

His feet start to ache, just adding to the cacophony of pain and discomfort from his body. That decides it. Castiel walks to the entrance of the club, where he stands awkwardly and looks up at the bouncer, who definitely seems taller from this angle.

“You look like you have had a shit night,” the bouncer says. She’s somewhere over six feet tall, built as though she was designed to take on a bull with her bare hands, and her voice is unusually deep for a woman’s. She’s definitely still the most feminine bouncer Cas has ever seen.

“Your lipstick is very nice. It’s a good shade of red.” It surprises him as much as the bouncer, he just had no idea what to say. The anger of frustration seemed to go out of him completely with the start of this conversation. Also, he just might have a concussion.

“Thanks, I guess,” she says. “You’re still not coming in here lookin like that, though, and I don’t care what the other guy looks like. Shouldn’t you be seeking medical attention, or something?”

“I was,” Cas explains, “but it’s awhile away. I don’t have a car. Uh.” He isn’t really sure where to go from here. “I thought perhaps I could get some help here?”

The bouncer’s eyebrows went up.

“This is a club, kid,” she says.

“Yeah, but- it’s just-“ Castiel sighs. “I want to speak with Gabe- Loki.” He remembers the name on the poster just in time. “I think he’ll help me.”

“Uh-huh,” she says. “Look, why don’t you just call someone to pick you up, if the hospital or whatever is too far? You can wait around here if you’re worried about safety. I won’t kick you out of the doorway, at least.”

Castiel sighs again, and closes his eyes for a few moments. He’s just so tired, so sore. He looks back up at the bouncer.

“Can you just-“ He starts and stumbles. He picks his words up again quickly, though, before he loses his nerve. “Can you just tell him it’s Castiel? Please?”

The bouncer raises her eyebrows at him, but she relents.

“Alright, if you say so,” she says. She hold the door open a minute and music spills out that is loud enough to make Castiel wince. “EH YO! Shira! C’mere!”

A few moments later a woman with a face of chalk-white makeup and heels that Castiel thinks must be far too tall to dance in slides her way right into the doorway.

“Got a problem?” she asks. She sees Castiel through the doorway and gives the bouncer a look clearly asking if he is the problem.

“Nah,” the bouncer says. “Just a dumb kid asking to see the boss. Says to tell him it’s Cas-tiel. Figure it wouldn’t hurt to see if Loki wants to see him.”

“Alright,” Shira says. Considering the situation from the outside Castiel realizes how weird it must seem, but she just shrugs it. “Castiel, right? Doubt it’s gonna happen, Loki’s a pretty busy man, but alright. Give me a moment.” She closes the door behind her and the music abruptly becomes quiet once more.

“There you go,” the bouncer, Castiel still doesn’t know her name, says. “The trickster has been notified. Now, when he refuses to see you, will you be ready to see some sense and call somebody to pick you up?”

Castiel just shrugs and looks at the ground. Now he’s just waiting here to see the brother he hasn’t even heard from in two years, and it is terrifying. He tries to breath deeply and keep calm, but his heart is beating faster than it seemed to when he was running. The tremble in his hands grows stronger and he closes them reflexively. Then he clenches up his entire body in pain, as he had forgotten that his right hand had glass in it.

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh,” Castiel manages something between a hiss and moan of pain.

“Ouch,” the bouncer winces in sympathy. She’s way too nice for a bouncer, Castiel thinks. She couldn’t possibly be like this with everyone. Perhaps he just looks utterly unthreatening. “You okay, kid?”

Before Castiel could answer the club door slams open all the way. Behind the door is Shira, who looks curious and off-balance in way the scene before had yet to make her.

"He says he wants to see him,” Shira says. “Right now, in the backroom. He cleared the whole room out, told me to get the kid.”

The bouncer’s jaw drops, literally.

“What the hell?” She asks, and Castiel has no answers for her as Shira drags him into the club.

Walking into the club is, in some ways, reminiscent of how Castiel may have imagined walking into Hell. The air temperature is at least fifteen degrees hotter than outside, and the sudden humidity and background smell of densely packed human bodies made it hard to breathe. There are lights along the floor and a disco ball overhead, but there isn’t enough light to really make out anyone’s face, or the floor, as Castiel finds when he accidently kicks over a glass of beer. He doesn’t understand why anyone would put their drink on the ground anyway. To the side is the brightest place in the room, a stage with just enough room for a band. It’s currently occupied by a back-lit DJ with a laptop. The only real difference between this and Hell, in Castiel’s mind at least, is that the music is surely better for dancing here.

Shira leads him along to the back, where a large bar is crowded with a throng of people. Quite a few of them look or stare at him as Shira leads him back behind the bar. It’s not bright enough for Castiel to see exactly what their expressions are, but he senses that they’re curious at least.

Shire leads him through an industrial door in the back of the bar. She holds the door open to usher him through and, with no small amount of trepidation, Castiel walks through.

When the door shuts behind him it makes the room even quieter than the entryway of the bar had been. The sound of people and pop music is muffled down to barely anything. The room itself is lined with couches, and has an egg chair in the middle. There’s a mini-bar in the corner and this room is spotless compared to the club itself, but Castiel barely registers many of these details. Mostly what he registers is Gabriel, right there, in that leather purple egg chair.

Gabriel stands up when Castiel enters and just stares at him, eyes wide and mouth slightly open. Castiel stares right back. Gabriel is in a deep green business suite with a dark purple shirt and tie. He looks like he’s aged more than two years since Castiel last saw him, like he’s really an adult now and not just twenty. He looks completely foreign and completely familiar all at the same time.

“Castiel…” Gabriel breathes. “What the hell happened to you little b- what happened?”

“I got into a fight,” Castiel says. The shock of seeing his older brother is fading, and a feeling of coldness is taking it’s place. “Or rather, I got into a-a beating. It probably doesn’t count as a fight if I don’t throw a single blow.”

“Why?” Gabriel asks. “Why were you fighting? Why are you here? Are you- you seem pretty different.”

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. “That’s what happens when you don’t see or speak to someone at all for over a year. They seem different. Why are _you_ here, Gabriel?”

“I-” Gabriel starts, but he’s interrupted by the door opening.

“First aid kit here, Loki. Also got an ice pack for you,” a woman enters and says. She tosses Castiel an ice pack. He stumbles while catching it and she gives him an inquisitive side eye. “I need the office in an hour or two, I have some business. Are you going to be done with... this in an hour?”

She sets the large box in her hand on the table. Gabriel sighs and shrugs, and Castiel stays silent and just watches them both. He’s feeling more clear-headed and angry, and he certainly doesn’t feel the need to defend his presence here.

“You’re gonna have to give me something better than that,” she tells Gabriel.

“I don’t know, Kali, alright?” Gabriel says. He opens up the case and surveys it. He looks up at Castiel. “Is that nose still bleeding? Looks the same, but that doesn’t mean it’s not broken.”

“It stopped bleeding, though I believe it is broken,” Castiel says. His feet ache. “Any of these couches clean enough to sit on?”

Gabriel gives Castiel an offended look. “All of them, exactly how much filth do you think I keep in my office?”

“Our office,” the woman, Kali, corrects him. “And you’re in here, so we do keep a decent amount.”

Castiel ignores their conversation and walks over to the couch to tiredly plop himself down. He closes his eyes and puts his head back, holding the ice pack over his nose. He still hurts, God knows he does, but it felt so good to just sit down. He’s still sore, but it’s a more relieved soreness than it was before.

“You’re going to need to give me one good explanation if you expect me to give you this office indefinitely,” Kali says. Castiel can hear the way she crosses her arms from her voice. “Who is this?”

“Castiel,” Castiel answers before Gabriel can. “My name is Castiel.”

“Right then, Castiel,” Kali says. “You one of Loki’s little ex’s, then?”

“Of course not!” Castiel's eyelids fly open and he pulls his head up to stare at Kali. Castiel says. He’s disgusted at the idea. “You think me and Gabriel _dated?”_

“Yeah, no,” Gabriel adds. “Hell no, in fact.”

“He knows your name, Loki, your legal name,” Kali says. “I think I’d like to know what's going on.”

“Honestly, Kali, that makes two of us,” Gabriel says. He sighs. “This is my little brother. So, I mean, we’ve definitely never dated.”

There’s silence. Castiel closes his eyes again, so he doesn’t have to watch Kali process this information. Somehow it’s painful to see someone so very shocked that Gabriel is his brother, despite his and his family’s pretense over the past couple of years that Gabriel never existed.

“You know what?” Kali says. “You can keep the office tonight. I can take pity occasionally; you’ll just owe me one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when Cas and Meg ran into that club with the poster of Gabriel, aka Loki, on the wall? Well, you do now!  
> Cas and Dean's relationship wasn't the only one that has gone to shit. 
> 
> Thanks as always for reading.
> 
> Edit: "A few moments later a woman with a face of Japanese-style [look up stuff to specify further]" Okay, I'm not sure how this not only got past editing but somehow was never pointed out, but there it was and I am embarrassed as heck.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean and Cas did some “practicing”. 
> 
> Now Benny comes out to Dean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to take a break from Cas's troubled relationship with his brother! That'll be on Thursday, but for now I have a Christmas gift (or a second night of Hanukah gift) for you, dear readers!

##  Then

It was open house at Sammy’s elementary school, and for once John would actually be able to attend. Dean doubted it would be anywhere near as good as the last school. The science teacher there set something on fire during a demonstration and the potluck included some excellent apple pie. He took the opportunity to monopolize the rare moment of privacy in the room, with Cas of course, and got on a full-throttle Doctor Sexy marathon. 

Dean and Cas were on the sixth season of Doctor Sexy. They were sitting on the bed, Dean propped up on the backboard with his legs stretched out and Cas sitting cross-legged. Whenever something exciting would happen Cas would reach over, poke Dean repeatedly in the arm, and re-narrate the scene to Dean. Dean would sigh longsufferingly and say that he saw it.

Both Dean and Cas got something out of this arrangement, as Dean found that watching Cas be excited was better than watching the show and Cas found Dean’s reaction to be utterly hilarious. Every time Cas actually turned around and gave Dean a smile along with the poking Dean had to remind himself to play it cool. Cas was just trying to enjoy a show with a bro, and Dean had to be just that bro. Bros do not have hearts that stopped over the smile of their guy friends, so Dean hoped to god that Cas couldn’t read the reason behind the fact that Dean’s voice changed tone at the sight of Cas’s face. 

Cas usually got excited at any of the big relationship changes, so when Doctor Sexy and Nurse Lauren got together, coming together in a dramatic moment of breaking romantic tension and kissing for an exceedingly long amount of time, Dean expected more poking. Cas, however, was silent and still. Dean leaned forward a bit to examine him, and saw that he was frowning. 

“What?” Cas asked when he noticed Dean looking. 

“You’re not going to poke me and tell me that Doctor Sexy and Nurse Lauren are kissing?” Dean asked. “Something wrong, buddy? Don’t tell me you thought Doctor Sexy and medical lawyer Jane Jessimer were that good together- and they’ve already broken up!”

“No,” Cas said. “Though I do think 10 minutes is a very short time to go from a marriage proposal to kissing someone else. It’s just- that, actually. Kissing.”

“What about it?” Dean asked. He absentmindedly sat up next to Cas to get closer to him, get a better view of his eyes. 

“They’re kissing for a very long time,” Cas said absently. “I doubt Father Zachariah would approve.”

“Pfft,” Dean made a noise of derision. “Who cares? Father Zach-Ass-Stick wouldn’t recognize a good kiss if he were a part of it. The kiss is hot.”

The characters on screen stopped kissing and started speaking, but neither boy paid attention to them. 

“Is that what a good kiss is, Dean?” Castiel asked. “Hot?”

“Well, I don’t know.” Dean said. “Is this some kind of test or something?”

“I’m just curious,” Cas explained. Cas’s eyes were wide open and so blue and Dean hoped that they couldn’t see his blush. He felt very aware of his heartbeat, and he wasn’t sure if this was a gift or a curse, hearing Cas talk about kissing like this. Cas and kissing, that was a dangerous thought. 

“Dean?” Cas asked. Dean was looking very odd at the moment, Cas couldn’t read his expression. “You listening?”

“Uh, yeah,” Dean said. His eyes darted down a flash to Cas’s lips, he couldn’t help it. Somehow that one glance made it just a bit harder for Dean to breathe. Shit. Dean’s mind and body were saying a number of things right now, things that were making this very challenging. He forced himself to let out a breath. 

“You’ve kissed girls before, right?” Cas asked. “So you would know.”

“Well, uh, not necessarily,” Dean said. “But- I mean- if I had to give it a guess, I’d say that yeah, a good kiss would be hot. I mean, well, right, it wouldn’t be just hot, but I think, like, the fact that it’s a good kiss, that would make it hot, right?”

Cas nodded slowly at this. He could see the logic. 

“But, just to clarify, it wouldn’t be the, uh, hotness that would make the kiss good?” Cas asked. He looked directly at Dean’s eyes, which were a bit larger than usual. 

“I mean,” Dean stopped. He had to get himself together. He could do this. He took in a deep breath. “Why do you even want to know, Cas? Is there-” Dean licked his lips, which seemed very dry. “Is there someone you want to kiss?”

“No,” Cas answered. “Not particularly. It’s just- it’s this conversation I heard, between Anna and her friends.”

If there was any answer Dean was expecting, it wasn’t that one.

“What?” Dean asked. The expression on his face made Cas’s lips tug upward a bit.

“It’s Anna and her friends, like Tessa,” Cas said, “they said that girls- that girls practice kissing. On one another. Before they kiss boys.”

“Oh.” Dean’s mind was completely blank. He had no idea where this was going. 

“They said it didn’t count,” Cas said. “As- as, you know, homosexuality, as they did it with the intent to kiss boys. It was only practicing. I suppose I understand but-”

“But?” Dean asked.

“But then what do boys do?” Cas asked. “If I kiss a girl in the future then it will be my first kiss- I mean, my first kiss without practicing. She will already be a good, experienced kisser. My skillset will be lacking.” Castiel’s expression was completely serious.

“Ah,” Dean said. “Um. Yeah.” A solution to Cas’s predicament popped up in Dean’s mind. It was a very consuming thought, this solution. 

“Dean?” Cas asked. Dean jumped. His heart beat fast, his breaths were quick but utterly unfulfilling, and he felt light-headed. He would say that he felt like a deer facing the oncoming headlights and all-consuming roar of a car, except that he really doubted that deer were turned on by the idea of getting hit by a car. 

“Dean, are you alright?” Cas asked. “You’re shivering. Do you want to go under the covers or-”

“No!” Dean shouted. “No, uh, sorry. I’m alright. Just, you know, really surprised by Doctor Sexy and Nurse Lauren.” He forced a chuckle.  _ I’m not shivering in anticipation at all,  _ he thought to himself.  _ Of course not. There is nothing to anticipate. Nothing is going to happen. _

Dean’s heart, the traitorous thing, did not get this memo. 

Cas was concerned about Dean’s behavior, but now that he’d brought up his insecurities about kissing he found he couldn’t let the topic go. 

“Then do you have any ideas?” Cas asked. “About getting kissing experience?”

_ Yes,  _ Dean thought. 

“No,” Dean said. “Sorry, dude, I can’t help ya- unless...”

“Unless?” Cas asked. He leaned forward. 

“Unless,” Dean said, “it counts for guys, too.” It might have been the most wonderful thought he had ever had. “The practice rule. If it’s only to practice for girls, it’s not gay.”

“I,” Cas spoke slowly as he put together the implications of this idea, “I think that makes sense.” A wave of jitters came over Cas. Dean appeared to be- well, Cas had to be sure. “Are you offering, then?” 

“Yes,” Dean said, immediately, before he could changed his mind. His face felt like it was burning, he was sure Cas could see his blush. 

Cas was, in fact, suddenly aware of the fact that Dean was blushing. He was suddenly aware of many things, such as the fact that he was leaning in toward Dean, the distance between his face and Dean’s, the incredible number of freckles on Dean’s face and the glorious detail he could see of Dean’s face, his sudden urge to glance at Dean’s lips, and a number of other things, most of which involved Dean’s face. Cas had before had those occasional urges, to kiss Dean, but he had always dismissed them as best he could. 

Cas had, honestly, not foreseen that the conversation might ever go this way.

Cas had always thought that Dean’s face was aesthetically pleasing, he’d even gotten the urge to touch it before, but that feeling have never been this strong. He swallowed. 

“Okay,” he said. 

“Uh,” Dean said. “Okay?”

“Yes,” Cas said. He wasn’t sure he could get the idea out of his head now, anyway, the idea of kissing Dean. “Yes. It makes sense, doesn’t it? To be caught up on practice?”

It was Dean’s turn to swallow. Neither of them had broken eye contact for what felt like minutes. For Cas everything was happening very slowly, and for Dean everything was happening all at once. 

“Yes,” Dean said. “It makes sense, I know, it does. I just wanted to be clear, you know, on the fact that it would- it could happen, and that you’d be cool with that. It’s just an idea, you know, I just thought it would be helpful, because you’re, you know, my friend and uh-”

Cas pressed his lips against Dean’s. Dean stopped speaking immediately, with just a surprised noise from the back of his throat. Cas’s lips were touching Dean’s, and Dean’s brain wasn’t really getting with the moment. 

After the first burst of movement Cas wasn’t really sure what to do, and Dean didn’t seem to be responding, so he started to pull back. The beginning of Cas’s retreat shocked Dean’s brain into action, and he pressed forward, grabbing at Castiel’s shirt. Now that he realized what was going on, Dean didn’t want it to stop. 

Cas reacted with his own renewed enthusiasm, reaching for Dean in turn. A few minutes ago he never would have imagined he’d be doing this, but now it was hard to imagine stopping. Dean was so warm, and this felt so... better than good. Excellent. Perfect. Right, in a way that made Castiel’s heart ache with physical feeling and made his stomach do funny things. Somehow his and Dean’s mouths were open, and Cas was scooting forward, and they were still kissing. Every feeling was heightened and every sense was on high alert, focused completely on his own feelings and Dean and what they were doing. He couldn’t even hear the tv, but he could hear his own heartbeat. He couldn’t think coherently, yet he could feel clearly the rough texture of Dean’s shirt, every inch of warmth where he and Dean connected, even the air on his own skin. He couldn’t see anything, his eyes were closed; yet he was aware of everything. 

It was one of the worst kisses that Dean had ever had. Cas was a little too enthusiastic, sloppy as hell and a bit too wet, and he pretty obviously had no idea what he was doing. It was one of the worst kisses that Dean had ever had, yet somehow Dean was kissing back just as earnestly as Cas ever could. He didn’t even realize it wasn’t that good of a kiss until later, all he could think of now was getting closer, kissing back, stroking Cas’s hair, and just keeping the kiss going. He could smell the lovely way soap mixed with the natural smell of Castiel’s skin and feel the buttons of his steam-pressed shirt in his hands, each strand of Cas’s hair was soft in his hand and the feeling of Cas’s lips a kind of warm heaven. It turns out that Dean didn’t care how much technique a kiss had as long as it was from Castiel. All he needed at this moment was just to keep kissing. He wasn’t sure he needed anything else in the world, if this was what kissing Cas felt like. 

After a few moments, minutes, or hours the kiss slowed. Cas savored every single thing he felt, and he couldn’t help but sneak a hand up, stroking against the outside of Dean’s shirt, to hold his thumb against Dean’s jaw and feel Dean’s rapid but slowing heartbeat through the delicate skin of his throat. Dean opened his eyes slowly to find Castiel had already opened his to stare at him. 

They slowly leaned back and broke apart, both breathing heavily. It was only now that they’d stopped that each of them remembered that they actually needed to breathe. 

They both just looked at one another for the next few moments; still sitting close, no longer touching. Castiel felt, on some level, that he just couldn’t describe that as just practice, but if it wasn’t just practice then it was homosexuality and Cas couldn’t think of it that way either. It was just a kiss. Homosexuality was wrong, and that kiss was right. On some fundamental, undeniable level it was right. Kissing Dean was the cool hiss of a carbonated drink on a hot summer day, kissing Dean was the warmth of laundry straight out of a dryer, kissing Dean was the feeling of clean sheets after sleeping for years on a bed of dirt and Castiel simply couldn’t think of it as sin. So it couldn’t be homosexuality, not really. Just... practice, then, it had to be.

Even if he sorta had an erection, it was just practice. That was just a random physical response. It didn’t mean anything, it could just be coincidental. He just needed to ignore it. It would go away, it didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter. 

Dean realized he was hard after the kiss was done. The realization came with a small wave of guilt, and he knew that he’d just have to suck it up and wait it out, and hope that Cas didn’t notice. Somehow the realization made him ache more, with a kind of guilty longing.

Dean cleared his throat, but he couldn’t think of what to say. “Doctor Sexy” still played in the background, casting light over them both yet completely unacknowledged. 

“Thank you,” Cas whispered. He should, given the circumstances, be thanking Dean only for being willing to kiss him; it surely took a devoted friend to practice kissing. Yet it there was so much more to thank him for in that kiss-  _ practice _ kiss. Castiel felt like it was a blessing, small or not, to have had that experience. 

“No need to thank me,” Dean said. There was something in Cas’s tone that he was scared to look into. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Cas to thank him as a friend, if that’s all the kiss meant to Cas, but he didn’t want him to know that it meant more to Dean than that, either. He wasn’t sure that there were any good outcomes. 

Even if there were no good outcomes, at least Dean got that kiss. Practice or no, he couldn’t regret it. 

Cas looked down into his lap. He felt like he needed to do something, it didn’t seem enough to just leave it that way. Dean turned off the TV, as Doctor Sexy had no appeal for him right then and there. He immediately regretted it, without the TV background noise the silence of the room was far too loud. 

Dean could feel Cas’s eyes still on him. He wanted to look back at Cas, but that desire was intertwined with the desire to kiss him again, and he was worried that he wouldn’t be able to look at Cas at this moment without kissing him. 

“I believe,” Cas broke the silence, “that if all kisses are like that I’ll be able to manage them quite well.”

Dean’s couldn’t help the pleased feeling that rose up to lighten his chest. Cas was enthusiastic enough that Dean would have guessed that he enjoyed it, he already knew, but still it felt so nice to have it confirmed. Even if the kiss happened only so Cas could kiss others with more grace in the future, it still couldn’t be completely tainted. 

“Yeah?” Dean asked. He was blushing again, he knew it, but he didn’t care as much anymore. 

“Yes,” Cas said. “Definitely. That was- that was utterly- utterly enjoyable, to say the least.” He struggled, and failed, to find the right words. “I know I didn’t really know what I was doing-”

“You were great, Cas,” Dean said. “You were better than great, you were-” Dean wasn’t any better at finding words than Cas. “You are an amazing person, Cas, and a  _ damn  _ good kisser.” It was only now that it occurred to Dean that this was not, technically, true. Cas was a very inexperienced kisser, a very obviously inexperienced kisser. It just didn’t matter. “I mean, yeah, you’ll get better with more, uh, kissing, but you’re already fucking awesome, dude.”

Cas laughed at that, out of some combination of happy nervous and awkward relief. Dean thought he was a good kisser. That was the best seal of approval he could get, right there. He stopped, suddenly, when terrible thought came to him. There was no reason for it to be terrible, there shouldn’t be, but it was. 

“You don’t think I’m done, do you? Do you think I’m ready for an actual kiss, with an actual girl?” Cas asked. The idea that he was ready to make a good impression on girls should have been a happy one, but it was... unnerving to think he could already be done practicing. 

Dean winced on the inside at Cas’s words. “An actual kiss.” He didn’t have any right to wince, he was the one who proposed a kiss on the basis of meaningless practice, but he hadn’t truly realized how meaningful it would be. 

“I don’t think I am,” Cas answered his own question, to Dean’s relief. “I don’t think I’m ready to stop practicing at all.” 

“Yeah!” Dean said, maybe a bit too enthusiastically. He tried to turn it down. “I mean, you could definitely use a lot of work. Like. A  _ lot. _ ”

Cas bit his lip in worry at that. He didn’t think he’d been that bad. Dean stared, not sure he could look away from Cas’s lips if he wanted to. Cas glanced up and caught Dean’s stare. He wasn’t sure he really understood it, but something about the fact that Dean was staring at him gave him a joyful sense of satisfaction. 

“I should practice, then,” Cas agreed. He looked down from Dean’s eyes to his lips in return. Dean licked them, and the desire to taste those lips once again surged through Cas. “If I have so much progress to make.” He and Dean were getting closer together, though he couldn’t tell if either of them were actually moving. “It only makes sense.” Their faces were an inch apart. Cas closed his eyes and felt Dean’s warm breath on his skin. The world stood still. 

*BEE-BEEP*

The alarm made both of them jump, and they knocked their foreheads together. Cas hissed with pain as Dean let out a number of swears. 

*BEE-BEEP*

Cas patted down his clothes with one hand, keeping the other on his forehead, looking desperately for his phone. He just wanted to make it stop.

*BEE-BEEP*

Cas located his phone in his back left pocket, but was having some trouble getting it out. Dean was still swearing, though a bit more softly. The phone went off three or four more times before Cas managed to pull it out and turn off the alarm. 

“I need to go home,” Cas said. “I need to go home and do homework and go to bed before Mother comes to check on us.”

“Ah,” Dean said. He was still rubbing his head. The kiss would’ve been worth it. “Right. I’ll walk you there.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas gave Dean a warm look. “As always. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Dean said. “None at all. You seen where my coat’s gotten to?”

“It’s on the door,” Cas said. “Where you always put it.”

“Right.” Dean gave Cas a casual finger-gun for that. 

The late winter, nearly spring, night was still pretty chilly. Dean and Cas didn’t speak much as they walked, they mostly just bumped elbows and shot each other looks occasionally. It was stupid and subjective, Castiel knew, but it felt like the entire world was a inside joke just for them. 

* * *

 

##  Now

Benny hit the little paper football all the way across their shared desk. 

“Shit, dude,” Dean says. Late night studying for them both- especially for Dean. There’s an in-class essay tomorrow in Lit and Dean isn’t exactly as familiar with the book as he’d like to be. Drinking has so much more appeal than studying Thoreau, who comes off as a kind of a pretentious jackass to Dean at least. So Dean had a bit more fun and now he’s going to have to pay for it by getting familiar with this book and its themes overnight. 

Benny, across the desk from Dean, is taking it easy. He has the dignity as a friend to stay in their room and support Dean through this hard time, and only rub it in some that he doesn’t feel any need to study. 

They chat and play paper football as they study. It’s a bit of a distraction, but it’s also the only thing keeping Dean from going insane. He and Benny chat a bit while they play. 

“I take it you’ve given up on being an activist ally?” Benny asks. “Haven’t seen you at the Center since you high-tailed it out of there during training.” Dean smarts a little at the embarrassment this brings up. 

“I didn’t know training was gonna have all that touchy feely shit,” Dean says. “I’m not great at the whole ‘sharing’ thing.

“You’re gettin’ better at it,” Benny observes. He watches Dean flick their “football” off the table. “Lovely shot there.”

“Shut up,” Dean says. “I may be getting better, but I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to share all that relationship shit with strangers.”

“Fair enough,” Benny admits. “Your feelings, your choices, brother. Still, I gotta say, in my group it was all freely volunteered info- ain’t none of use were required to speak up.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes not sharing is a two way street,” Dean says. “I’ll still be supportive, just from the sidelines. Straight supportive sideliner, that’s me. You seem to be getting real into it, though.”

“Are you implying something?” Benny asks sharply. 

“Dude, no!” Dean says. “You can be straight but not narrow, and all that!” Dean’s stupendous back track turns out to be no so necessary, as Benny’s just laughing. Snorting a bit, really.

“Hey, brother, it’s okay,” Benny says, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “I ain’t taking any offense. Actually been wondering about that...”

“About what?” Dean asks. 

“Well, sexuality,” Benny says. “Mine in particular, though I have learned a good lot about sexuality in general.”

“Wait,” Dean says. He holds out his arms in a gesture embodying the word “what.” “You’re a-um... Why the hell are you asking me about this? I’m the least informed person on this shit of our entire fucking dorm.”

“I don’t think  _ that’s _ true,” Benny says. “There are some fucking idiots in this dorm.”

“Thanks.” Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Better than ‘fucking idiots’ is always the standard I’ve been going for.”

“Don’t be a sarcastic shit, Dean,” Benny says. “It doesn’t suit you-”  _ I can think of multiple people who’d disagree,  _ Dean thinks, but he manages to keep his mouth shut. “-we both know you’re not Encyclopedia Queer-tanica, but you might just be the closest friend I got in this dorm. I wanted to talk to you, but if you’re just gonna be a shithead-”

“Sorry,” Dean apologizes. “I’ll stop, best I can. Shithead is part of my DNA, though, got it from my dad.”

Benny chuckles. “I was about to say that I was probably just gonna talk to you about it anyway, so that’s alright.”

“Sarcastic shit mode reactivated then,” Dean says. “What’s on your mind with sexuality, then? Gonna do a 180 and be gay, now?”

“Hmm, not quite a 180,” Benny says. “Don’t think I could pretend that girls aren’t pretty- think my ex would fly out here just to kick my ass if I denied I was ever attracted to her.”

Dean give a nod and a thoughtful frown. “That’s fair.”

“But, I’m just saying, there are a few gentlemen out there who mighta caught my eye as well,” Benny says. 

“Well, everybody’s got a  _ few _ ,” Dean has many more than a few and has absolutely no experience or data to back this up except for the fact that he’s heard it before. 

“Well, maybe I got a few more than a few,” Benny elaborates. “But go on, brother, who’re your few, again?” It’s more of a rib than an honest question, but Dean doesn’t want to ignore it completely. 

“Oh, you know,” Dean looks over and gives Benny the most ridiculous  _ you know  _ look that he can imagine. “Doctor Sexy, James Dean, maaaaaaybe a bit for young Harrison Ford.” Most ‘comfortable with his sexuality straight’ thing he could think to say. Well. Nerdy ‘comfortable with his sexuality straight’, but still. 

“Any reason to watch that show besides Doctor Sexy?” Benny asks. “I watched one episode of that shit and thought it’d be cheaper just to buy a poster and look at the good Doctor without suffering through that acting.”

“Hey!” Dean says. “It’s entertaining. I once had a friend who thoroughly enjoyed its artistic campy style.”

“You and your friend both, y’all are just lying to yourselves,” Benny says, shaking head. “Not sure if you’re gayer than me just for watching it.”

“Now you're just avoiding the main issue,” Dean says. “I told me mine, you tell me yours.”

“Too many,” Benny dismisses. “What’d’ya want, a list?”  
“Anyone I know?” Dean pries.

“Well,” Benny says, drawing out the word. “Victor. Maybe.”

“Ooh, Victor,” Dean says. “You wanna take a ride on that big black dick?”

“You’re disgusting. And racist.”

“Fine,” Dean shrugs. “You wanna romance that handsome black fellow?”

“You want to romance Doctor Sexy?” Benny asks. 

“If he were living down the hall, maybe I would,” Dean offers. “Victor does seem to like you.”

“Heh,” Benny says. “Could ask him out for an evening, I suppose. Not sure though. You know, now that I went and shared, I only think it’s fair that you do, too.”

“Nothing to share,” Dean says. “I’m certainly not about to ask anyone out on a  _ date. _ ”

“C’mon, brother,” Benny reaches over to give Dean’s arm a light punch. “Are you still moping over that girl from highschool?”

“‘That girl from highschool’ was a lesson to me,” Dean says. “The lesson was that I’m a terrible person who should never date. The end.”

“You’re not too terrible,” Benny says. 

“Yeah, actually, I am.” The conversation is getting more serious to Dean, the pressure of the memories feels like a physical weight on him. He doesn’t really like lying, at the moment, but he doesn’t know how to end this conversation. 

“What’d you do, cheat on her? Plenty of people make mistakes, it couldn’t a been-” 

“I lied to her,” Dean interrupts. It feels like the words are pouring out waiting for his say-so. “I lied to her, I lied to her, I lied to everyone. I told her she was the first, man, and I couldn’t go back. And she’s say shit- shit like ‘my only love’ and I’d just fucking stand there- knowing that I was a piece of shit and-” Dean lays his forehead in his hand, and just closes his eyes. “She still doesn’t know. I had to break up with her, but I just couldn’t, couldn’t tell her why.”

“Al-righty,” Benny says slowly. 

“Sorry,” Dean offers. He tries to manage a smile. “Just had to steal the spotlight from your coming out.”

“Well, you maybe you just thought my coming didn’t have enough spice,” Benny says, “wanted to add some. Why the hell did you lie to us, though? We wouldn’t’ve known the difference.”

“I don’t know,” Dean sighs. “Same reason I lied to her, I guess. H- it’s just-” Why is this so hard to say? Benny just came out, and even before then Dean knew he’d be supportive. How could Dean just let Benny say he was bisexual, and then lie to him? 

It’s like there’s still that instinct there, to not say the truth. A wall between his brain and his mouth, built out of reluctance once protective and now just there. 

“I don’ want to pressure you or anything, but just what?” Benny asks. Dean closes his eyes and flops down on the bed, giving another sigh, this one out of frustration. 

“I know I can tell you,” Dean says. “You’re my friend and you’re- supportive, and all that.. It’s just been secret for so long- while we were in the relationship it was secret, after it was still secret. But there’s no fucking reason for it to be secret anymore!” After he says that it immediately occurs to him that there are still reasons to keep some parts of it secret; he might hate Cas, but he still doesn’t think he’d have it in him to out him right now. Maybe he can just figure out where Cas’s dorm is and egg it, or something. 

“Why was it secret in the first place?” Benny asks. He’s wearing the type of confused expression that makes it seem like he’s trying to look at the tip of his nose. Dean has the odd urge to laugh at the sight of it. It’s not quite like Cas’s confused expression though, Benny’s eyes aren’t blue enough or big enough, and he doesn’t crinkle his face quite the same way. 

“Wait, does Sam not know?” Benny asks. 

“I said nobody knew, Benny, you really think Sam’s nobody?” Dean says. He lays down and sighs. Maybe if he pretends to be asleep he could avoid the rest of this conversation. 

“ _ Sam  _ doesn’t know?” Benny repeats. “I get that your dad and her parents might not approve, or whatever, but why the hell wouldn’t you tell him? Was she a completely terrible person or-” 

Benny stops speaking. Dean glances up to see Benny staring at him with a thoughtful look, like he just solved a puzzle he didn’t even know was there. 

“Dean.” Benny speaks slowly and a bit cautiously, and some aspect of his tone gets warning bells ringing in Dean’s head. Dean might not know what he’s going to say exactly, but the pit in his stomach has plenty of ideas. “Was it a boy?”

Dean closes his eyes. He doesn’t answer, but he knows he doesn’t need to. Benny will see the answer on his face. Dean curls up on his side, facing away from his roommate. He doesn’t want to see or hear any more about this, and he sure as hell isn’t going to say any more about this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the first day of Christmas my writer gave to me one first kiss. 
> 
> Across town from Castiel braving Alistair and meeting with his brother again, Dean and Benny talk and both end up coming out.
> 
> Back then, Dean was Cas's first kiss (but no homo, it's a bro kiss).


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas came to a realization during one of his uncle’s sermons.
> 
> Now Castiel confronts his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, that was a sweet chapter Sunday. This one will have to be extra painful to make up!
> 
> Christmas is over, but Hanukkah isn't and New Years is coming, so happy holidays!  
> Oops, accidentally updated a day early. Keep forgetting what day it is. It's basically Thursday, though. And you don't mind too much, readers, right?
> 
> Warnings for homophobic language and religious homophobia.

##  Then

“Youth nowadays have such temptations and pressures against them,” Father Zachariah said. Usually the potlucks after services on Sunday were a time of socialization and ease, but this time their uncle had decided to use it as an opportunity to separate out and address the teenage members of their congregation. “Teenage” being anywhere from 12 to 25, it seemed. “It is more important now than ever that you stand with God, and trust in His love over all else.”

Gabriel had propped up his head on one hand, and was very evidently drifting off. Castiel wasn’t even sure if he wanted to or just couldn’t help it. Anneal was texting under the table. Lucifer wasn’t even pretending that he was awake. Michael had been excused from this sermon. 

Somehow they weren’t even the most disrespectful ones- the other kids here were mostly even more blatant. Everyone was used to being done with sermons and lectures by this time of morning, and not a single one of them wasn’t impatient to get out of there. A few girls whispered and giggled behind Castiel. One boy was actually trying to covertly throw a paper airplane, and another had a book out on his lap. Several of the teens there doodled, mostly on themselves. 

Uncle Zachariah must have seen some of it, but apparently he didn’t feel the need to waste time addressing it and he just prattled on. His voice was loud and he wasn’t completely dull and emotionless, but they’d already heard a forty-five minute sermon from him. The way he went on and on made his voice monotonous and easy to tune out. Castiel felt a little bit bad for how utterly unengaged everyone one, and he was one of few at least trying to attend. It wasn’t easy, though, and the temptation to join Gabriel in covertly napping was strong.

“It isn’t your fault that the world has become so godless, yet you are the ones who are going to have to deal with this,” Father Zachariah went on. “You must be as unwavering as possible if you hope to bring yourselves, your world, and the future generations back from the path to Hell. The world around you has embraced all manner of sin; greed and materialism, sloth from increasingly unnatural technology, and lust promoted ever more shamelessly. Now more than ever those unbelievers, those who would see you embrace lust and burn everlasting in Hell for short Earthly pleasures, they will target you. Now that you are on the path to adulthood you must be on the lookout for those who would seduce you into sinning.”

Father Zachariah’s language was at its height when he was delivering a sermon about Hell and sin. Castiel tried to remember if any of those words were SAT words. Maybe he could incorporated them into lyrics? He had been considering writing his own lyrics for awhile now, but he was never happy with what he produced when he tried it. He stared off into the space next to Father Zachariah’s head, trying to think.

“You MUST be on the lookout for sin,” Zachariah shouted, “and YOU ARE NOT. Do you think I cannot see you, giggling with your friends, looking at your laps, ignoring the messages of the Bible for petty distractions? Do you think GOD does not see you? Do you think when the Devil comes for you he will be ugly, unappealing, obvious and dull, as you seem to think I am? No.”

The entire room had fallen silent. Everyone was now looking up at Father Zachariah. Zachariah’s tone was edged with bitterness, actually turning outright mocking at points. Zachariah’s voice dropped low, the complete stillness of the room making it just as loud as his shouting had been.

“The Devil will come to you as something lovely, something appealing,” Zachariah said. Castiel’s veered sharply away from their place looking at his uncle to look down into his lap. His hands were shaking, and he clenched them. He tried desperately just not to think of anything at all, not to feel anything at all, like he was just listening to the screams in the other room, as usual. “Sin will feel right to you, even as you know it’s wrong.” The effort to be numb wasn’t working, and Castiel had to rapidly attempt to blink tears out of his eyes. “The ramblings of blasphemous songs won’t register with you in the beginning, the godless media will make you laugh, the homosexual tendencies will start out seemingly similar to real love-”

It was like someone poured a bucket of ice cold water on him. Castiel’s entire body went rigid. He wasn’t good at identifying his emotions. They so often felt like things that were happening to him rather than things that he was feeling, and the connections around feelings were hard to make. 

It took Zachariah, whose words were like knives dripping with the acid of contempt, saying it for Castiel to realize. It took that to get him to finally identify all those confusing, conflicting emotions that had been plaguing him. Love. 

Castiel Novak was in love with Dean Winchester. He had been for awhile now. 

Castiel couldn’t even hear what Zachariah was saying now, he couldn’t even really see around him despite his eyes being open. The way Dean talked, the way he moved, the way he smiled, and, oh God, the way he kissed. The way Cas reacted. 

As he was still processing this, a thought rose up. It was homosexuality. Father Zachariah just outright said it wasn’t real love. If Castiel were to do this, if Castiel were to continue with this, he would be a homosexual. He felt his chest implode inwards. 

He would go to Hell, and he would drag Dean down with him. 

It was Castiel who brought up practice kissing, and though he didn’t consciously think of the repercussions some part of him  _ must  _ have hoped that it would end with that kiss. Dean offered kindness, loyalty, and support, and Cas wanted to touch him in return. It wasn’t fair. 

Castiel was in love with Dean Winchester, he knew it was love now, but Father Zachariah said it wasn’t love and that it would only seem like love. Castiel knew what the right thing to do was, what he had been taught all his life the right thing to do was, but it didn’t seem fair to Dean to pay for it. It just didn’t seem right to sacrifice their friendship in an attempt to quell Castiel’s temptations, as much as he knew his mother, Michael, and Zachariah would want him to if they knew. 

Castiel didn’t hear another word of Father’s Zachariah's sermon. He continued to look down into his lap, the entire time, and he just thought and felt. He felt the twist of longing and despair within him, as memories, positive and negative, overwhelmed him. 

In the end he came to a decision. He could keep being friends with Dean, he wouldn’t punish him for this, but he would make more active efforts to be good and restrain himself. He wouldn’t continue the easy, casual touching that happened between himself and Dean. He would stop staring so much. He would get through this, and no one had to know. 

It took Castiel a few moments to realize when Zachariah finished and dismissed them all. He had to blink a few times before he fully realized that people were walking past him, getting up and getting out. Some of them may have been muttering, he wouldn’t have known, he still wasn’t fully processing hearing. It was too surreal, to just watch the other teens walk out and go to lunch. 

Eventually, still feeling very dreamlike, he managed to get up and start walking. His feet felt awkward and clumsy, a million miles away from his head. He didn’t even know if he was the last person to exit or not. 

When he went out Gabriel pounced on his side. He bumped straight into Castiel in what was probably meant to be affectionate physical contact, but it nearly took Castiel out. 

“That was an intense speech,” Gabriel said. “I think Michael might have actually cried if he heard it. Samandriel was definitely crying, did you see him?” 

Castiel managed a nod, though he hadn’t seen Samandriel at all. 

“Can’t say I blame him all that much,” Gabriel said. “That sermon would’a had Darth Vader quivering in his black outfit.”

Castiel thought his face might have twitched at the Star Wars reference, but he didn’t say anything. He felt relief pour into him, though, as he realized he wasn’t the only one to react strangely. A tension he hadn’t even noticed in his shoulders gave out. 

“We all- we all reacted oddly, didn’t we?” He asked. His voice was hoarse. 

Gabriel gave him a discerning look. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. “We did. Can’t say even the toughest of souls in there didn’t react at all, and the rest of us were just a bunch of soap opera actors. Samandriel might not have been the only one crying in there, though I don’t know if it was outta big boy guilt, sadness at the horrors of our generation, or fear that Uncle Zach was going to literally eat us.”

Castiel managed a weak chuckle at the last remark. He saw Gabriel stop walking suddenly, so he froze himself and looked up. They’d run smack into their uncle. Hopefully he didn’t hear Gabriel’s last comment. It was hard to tell, if he hadn’t taken to preaching Uncle Zachariah might have won millions at poker. 

“Hello,” Zachariah spoke first. “How are you boys doing? Living up high school?”

After having just walked out a speech that came close to just designating all youth to hell, Castiel felt that there was no good way to respond to that question. Gabriel, however, did.

“Living it up,” Gabriel said. “Living the Lord’s officially approved youth.” Castiel had to suddenly strain to keep his face emotionless. Nothing in Gabriel’s tone indicated that he was anything but serious, but Castiel recognized when his older brother’s rare sense of dry humor came out to play. Gabriel did like anything hinting at irony. 

Castiel couldn’t even think of whether or not he approved of the comment himself, he was too busy trying to be utterly serious and hope that it didn’t invoke Uncle Zachariah’s wrath upon him as well as Gabriel. 

Because God is kind, Zachariah didn’t recognize the joke. 

“Good, good,” he said. “I know that sermon was intense. I meant it to be. Now, you boys might feel a bit bad, I realize, might feel a bit guilty after it, so I wanted to come speak to you afterwards. Guilt is good. Guilt can keep you in check.” 

He might have said more, but at that moment a church mother descended upon him to talk about her admiration of his attempts to curve the corruptions of youth. It didn’t really matter, Castiel still what felt like enough guilt and confusion to keep the devil himself in check.

The way Castiel felt about Dean was wrong. It might feel right, but he knew, intellectually, that it was wrong. It was right to feel guilt about it. So why, then, why did Castiel still feel so very uncertain? 

He should have  _ known _ .

* * *

##  Now

“Well-” Gabriel starts, but Castiel cuts him off. 

“Why come here?” Castiel asks. “The legacy university campus? Right where Michael went, where Anna’s going right now? I thought the whole point of running was to get away from us.”

“I wasn’t trying to get away from you!” Gabriel explains. “I was trying to get away from our dysfunctional family and it’s holier-than-thou attitude and more-fucked-than-thou reality!”

“I was still a member of our family,” Castiel says. He stares right at Gabriel, making his already icy blue eyes as piercing as he could. “I am still a member of our family.” 

Gabriel sighs and looks away. Castiel can see the way he shrinks a bit under his glare, the way survivor’s guilt pulls down at Gabriel’s shoulders. Gabriel just sighs. 

“How did you even figure out I was here?” Gabriel asks. “We’re not exactly the type of family to do clubbing research.”

“You are literally on a poster outside,” Castiel answers. “It’s nearly five feet tall.” The icepack that Gabriel got him feels good. Well, not precisely good in and of itself, more cool and numbing, but the relief from pain is on par to many other physical forms of bliss. He could deal with Gabriel a little while longer, if it meant sinking into this couch and not going back to his dorm. 

All he really wanted to do at the moment is express anger at Gabriel, anyway. It isn’t exactly a sacrifice, he’s not sure he could leave without trying to get in a last minute rant at his brother.

“Oh. Yeah.” Gabriel chuckles. “Forgot about that. Well, I do look good in those posters. Probably worth it.”

Castiel glares at him. 

“Hey, if it weren’t for those posters you wouldn’t even be here,” Gabriel defends himself without a word being spoken by Castiel. “Those are some classy fucking posters, classier than our last ones by far, and without them you’d just be wandering the streets.”

“Without them I would have made the sane decision and done the walk to student medical services,” Castiel says. 

“If you’d have even gotten there by now,” Gabriel points out, making a wide arm gesture that manages to both make his point and hit his elbow on his own chair. “Ow!”

“Oh, did that hurt?” Castiel asks. He tilted his head in a mockery of concern, nearly threatening. The desperate guards behind Gabriel’s eyes snap. 

“You know, Cassie, you weren’t the only one to have a fucking hard time,” Gabriel says. “I know staying might not have been a stroll in the park, but mom was always easier on you, and from what I’ve heard that hasn’t exactly changed. Oh, yeah, you were probably under pressure to be good and I know you missed me- if this is your twisted way of showing it- but I really don’t need your shit. Yeah, I left ran away and our good ol’ Brady Bunch, and it probably sucked for you to lost more family, I know it sucked, but you know what else sucked? Being fucking homeless. Not being able to see my family. That does, in fact, tend to suck! And yeah, maybe I chose to leave, but you chose to stay, and I can see the results of it before me, so what fucking right do you have to resent me for my choice?”

“What right?” Castiel repeats. He sits up and lean forwards, towards Gabriel, who’s now staring right back at him. He turns his eye from his brother, because for some reason it seems so much more painful to say these words while seeing him. “You told me you would be there. One call away in college, right? You didn’t even say goodbye.” 

His voice is shaking by the time he finishes. Gabriel was the only one who even knew that Cas had been seeing Dean as a friend. But when Castiel needed someone to turn to Gabriel had been gone. When he looks back up Gabriel is the one looking away yet again. 

“I really want to say ‘fuck you’,” Gabriel says. “I could just be lazy and dismiss you. I did what I did because I had to. I couldn’t stay a minute longer in that house, so I made my choice and paid the price. Trust me, it wasn’t all free sailing to this position.” He sighs. “I want to say ‘fuck you’, but what I need to say, what I’m gonna say, is ‘I’m sorry.’ I can be the mature one sometimes.” 

He waits for Castiel to say something, but Castiel doesn’t know what he’d even say. Gabriel is not forgiven, that’s for sure, but the urge to yell at him, to punish him, is gone for the moment. Or at least it’s more conflicted. 

“I’m sorry I left,” Gabriel continues when it’s obvious that Castiel isn’t going to speak. “I should’ve been there for you. I don’t regret leaving, but- I do regret not saying goodbye. I’m sorry, little bro. I should’ve done that, freaked out kid or no.”

“We all had to deal with it, Gabriel,” Castiel says. “You weren’t the only one struggling. You weren’t the only who made sacrifices.”

“Yeah,” Gabe says. “I know. I am sorry, it’s a sincere apology from me, a once in a lifetime offer. I guess twice in a lifetime, for you. I heard you did pretty well though. Toed the line. Except for whatever the hell this is, I guess.” Gabriel gestures to Castiel’s bruising face.

“Where did you hear that from?” Castiel asks. 

“I have my sources,” Gabriel says, what he must believe to be an artful dodge.

“Within our family?” Castiel asks. 

“In general, you know,” Gabriel shrugs. Usually the fact that he has a good poker face, Castiel remembers him being able to lie like a champion, but usually he’s not speaking to people who grew up with him. Castiel learned how to tell how he was lying then, and he knows when he’s evading the truth now.

“Gabriel.” Castiel orders. “Tell me who.”

“Look, it’s really not my secret to tell-” Gabriel begins to explain. 

“Anneal,” Castiel interrupts as it suddenly comes to him. Who else would Gabriel defend? She’s been here for years, she must have seen the posters or heard something, and Anna is infinitely more likely to go to clubs than Castiel. She might have even seen him in person on a night out that way. Anna had responded differently than Gabriel or Castiel, taking a more middle path. Toeing the line more, but never breaking it. 

Secret college rebellion would have very much been Anna’s style. 

The thrown look on Gabriel’s face confirms Castiel’s guess. 

“She didn’t tell me,” Cas says. At this moment he’s processing out loud, saying the things that come to his head. “You didn’t tell me. You could have said something to me, through her. Said you were sorry. Said you were alive.”

“Little bro,” Gabriel says, “you gotta understand. You weren’t exactly a safe person to go to. I mean, recent evidence aside, and I don’t even know what happened there, from what Anna told me you turned into Mother’s little robot. You didn’t take a step out of line, you cut off from her and Michael and, I mean, everyone. I mean, can you imagine the risk of Anna talking to you about me? I couldn’t ask her to do that.”

“So you didn’t,” Castiel says. “So Anneal told you I was doing just fine, I was just Mother’s ‘little robot’? Is that how you think I should behave, is that what you think ‘fine’ looks like on me?”

“Cas-”

“You assume you know what it was like after you left. You assume I would have told mother about you if Anna had told me. You assume I was basically fine, you assume that you knew what I was like at all. You assume the information that justifies your actions, just like every other member of our family. You’re a hypocrite,” Castiel spat. “You’re a hypocrite, just like they are. I’m done. I’m going to go home. I mean, I’ll be in the same company either way, right?”

“You and Anna weren’t even that close, Cas!” 

“No, but  _ we _ were!” Castiel yells. His vision blurs with unshed tears, but there’s no way in hell he’s going to cry a single one. “You and me, Gabriel, we were.”

“I couldn’t just send Anna to apologize for me, Cas, what the hell kind of coward do you take me for?” Gabriel demands. 

“The kind of coward that you are,” Castiel says. He gets up, immediately, and his head rushes. He stumbles, and Gabriel reaches out for him, but he shoves his brother away. He doesn’t need their help. He isn’t about to get help from his siblings, anyway. 

“You can’t just push us away and then blame us!” Gabriel yells after him. Castiel just marches on, only slightly off-balance, ice-pack still held to his nose. He shoves his way through the crowd, just wanting to get out, not longer caring about being polite. It’s too crowded in here, too hot, he cannot stand it. 

After he shoves his way out the bouncer yells after him. 

“You okay, kid?” She calls after him. 

Castiel just walks away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zachariah likes to put EMPHASIS on during certain WORDS during his SERMONS.
> 
> Okay, both this chapter and next are both going to be just miserable, but after that good things will be able to happen again.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean dragged Cas out to eat, so that he could take a break from studying.
> 
> Now Castiel has to drag himself home and face Uriel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is off of schedule, this break's just been really busy. Not to mention family stress and... ugh. But, anyway, here's the new chapter!
> 
> First chapter of 2017, happy new year!

##  Then

“I’m never gonna get this right,” Dean said. “It’s just like the social studies dates! It’s like trying to memorize very slightly different shades of white! It’s not just boring, it might just be literally impossible.” He tapped the table to emphasize his point, completely serious, staring into Cas’s eyes as he declared learning vocabulary words to be impossible.

“It’s just studying, Dean,” Sam remarked. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed across the room, and he didn’t even look up to speak to Dean. He was well into his newest book series love-affair, this one was about a teenage spy or something like that. It was a wonder that he could register that Dean was talking at all. “Just try.”

“I am trying!” Dean whined. “Can’t you see me, studying three whole days before the actual test? If that isn’t grade-A effort, I don’t know what is! I want my damn gold star for effort.”

“They still give those in your classes?” Sam asked.

“No. They don’t.” Dean was spared from saying more, or worse, trying to study more, by a knock on the door. Dean actually jumped for joy- ostensibly it was to answer the door, but there was too much of a spring to the jump for it to be just that.

Dean recognized the knock at the door of immediately. It was someone who would be welcome to stroll on in anytime, whether or not the residents of this little motel room were actually home, someone with free reign on the place who still bothered to knock every time. That was Cas’s knock. 

He pulled open the door while Cas was still knocking.

“Thank god you’re here,” Dean said. He grabbed a coat from one of the chairs. “I need to get out of this fucking hotel room, and away from those fucking words.”

“Alright,” Cas shrugged, and he was already being pulled along by Dean. Dean slammed the door shut, stopped, went back and opened the door to shout, “I’ll be back soon, keep your phone on.”

Then Dean actually got to slam the door, and he slammed it as hard as he could to make up for the satisfaction he lost in having to go back and open it again.

“Do you actually know where you want to go?” Cas asked. 

“I-” Dean turned with a finger in the air. The finger wilted. “Uh, no. I don’t.”

“There’s a burger joint nearby,” Cas suggested. 

“You have money?” Dean asked. 

“Sure.” Cas shrugged. He had an allowance, of course. He’d done nothing to forfeit it yet- nothing his mother knew about yet. Of course, their allowance could always be completely randomly suspended for lessons in morality. Well, lessons in morality or to see if any of them started to show withdrawal systems (this did, in fact, happen once with Lucifer). For now, though, the allowance was ongoing and fairly unthreatened. 

“Food it is,” Dean agreed; and they started making their way to the Easy Burger. 

“If sin were determined purely by how enjoyable something was, then eating a burger would be one of the deadly sins,” Cas said. 

“Up there with pie, probably,” Dean nodded.  _ Up there with you,  _ Cas thought. He shook his head. His desires toward Dean might be sinful, but Dean himself was a decent person. People could commit sins, but sins couldn’t be people, anyway. Cas tried to walk just a few more inches from Dean. They had fallen into the easy step they usually used, close enough to bump elbows and shoulders. 

That was the type of thing Cas had been trying to do less of recently. There was a certain general affection and feel of camaraderie to the way they walked, but thinking of how much of a comfort Dean’s presence was only lead to thoughts about how warm Dean was, how warm Cas felt thinking of their light touches. It lead to an ache in Cas’s chest, a tingle on his skin, and involuntary glances to the side. 

It lead, in short, to the very things that Cas had been trying to cut down on, with only limited success. Dean wasn’t helping with this effort. Dean automatically drifted with Cas to try to keep the distance between them, and Cas had to drift a few inches more, to the side of the road, to actually get more air and less of Dean’s skin brushing him. 

Cas looked ahead with around the same amount of strong-willed determination that would get an alligator to chew through a concrete wall. If that wasn’t the case then Cas might have noticed the Dean glanced at him more and more, with more and more worry on his face to match the frequency of his glances. 

There wasn’t much discussion on the way there. Dean had to wonder if Cas knew. He thought he had hidden it pretty well, he wasn’t the worst liar when he really wanted to lie, but what else could explain the way Cas drew back? He almost wished that, if Cas did know how Dean felt about him, he’d just tell Dean and scold him. The way Cas kept getting further away and was less willing to touch him made him feel tainted, contagious. Which was insane. If he was contagious Cas would spend much less time avoiding his touch and a lot more time making out with him. 

Dean shook that thought out of his head and looked over to Cas, yet again. It wasn’t a good angle to see Cas’s face, that remained a mystery, but he kept his arms firmly by his side and the set of his shoulders was tense. Dean’s hand actually twitched with the thought that he could put his hand on Cas’s shoulder, maybe rub it a bit. The idea of feeling Cas relax under his touch gave Dean’s handthe ghost of warmth that contact with Cas could bring, but he kept it down by his side. There was too much to lose.

It was hard for both of them even to get through the walk to Easy Burger. 

“I’ll get the burgers if you find a seat,” Cas offered. They’d been there before and he knew Dean’s orders. 

“Sure thing,” Dean said. He flashed a smile he didn’t feel, and Cas nodded back. His eyes were solemn and Dean felt the urge to giggle at the way Cas gave burger purchasing such a serious expression. It was adorable, only worse. It was lovable. Dean turned away very quickly to nab one of the few two-person booths. 

Hanging out with Cas had become more intolerable and more essential since Dean’s birthday realization. Dean was having a minor sexuality crisis in the background of all of his conflicted desires around Cas. Dean liked girls, he really did, but now he  _ really  _ liked Cas, and he was just going to have to go with it or deny it and denying it was no longer an option. Except Dean couldn’t really go with it, because Cas was an all caps CHRISTIAN with some of the strictest parents Dean had ever heard of and the kind of upbringing too conservative for most conservatives to agree with. 

The kind of upbringing that might just make him stop touching Dean if he ever realized the extent of Dean’s feelings for him. 

And he’d just stopped touching Dean.

Dean fidgeted in the booth he’d claimed. He tapped his fingers on the table and watched Cas order. Cas was waiting in a short line, back facing Dean. His pants weren’t tight, but they were well fitted, no Novak child went around in ill-fitting clothing, and Dean felt his face go very red when he realized that he was staring. If Cas had somehow been able to sense Dean looking than Dean thought he’d probably have just spontaneously combusted and jumped out of the nearest window. 

Dean tried to look at anything other than Cas’s butt, studying the hideous brownish purse of the older lady in front of Cas to an unnatural extent. He saw the customer sitting just ahead of him pick his nose. Any and all detail of this burger joint was now welcome to Dean, as long as it was not Cas’s ass. Dean’s treacherous eyes did keep finding their way back to Cas in general, and he noticed Cas tapping his fingers. Not in the quick, irregular way Dean did out of his anxiety, but to a beat. 

Cas must have a song going through his head. He might even be humming. Cas’s deep always voice translated to his hum, making it nearly hypnotic in its vibrations. Dean wished, utterly, that he could hear it. He could imagine it nearly perfectly, but not quite, and the not-quiteness of it could drive him insane. It was moments like these that Dean realized how terrified he was of losing Cas; and, as a consequence, how totally screwed he was. 

Cas came back with two burgers not a few minutes later. There would be talking, but not until Cas finished his burger. Dean planned to just enjoy the show. Cas eating a burger was a wonder of the natural world; it was some combination of vomiting backwards, those snakes that can unhinge their jaws to fit more food in their mouths, and food orgasming. He also choked down bites like a snake, or maybe a baby bird. The good news was that, no matter how blissfully happy it was clear that Cas become while eating a burger, there was no way to actually think about sex while watching Cas eat a burger. It just wasn’t possible. It would be too surreal. The bad news was the sheer ridiculousness of the sight never failed to make Dean smile like an idiot, which was terrible. Who smiles while watching someone eat a burger with as much grace as a starved pack of wolves fighting over a rabbit? An idiot in love, that’s who. 

Luckily Cas didn’t seem to notice. After he devoured one of the largest burgers on the menu in the time it took Dean to take two bites out of his own, he just seemed content to sit back. 

“That was an excellent burger,” Cas remarked.

“I-” Dean started, then swallowed to try to speak properly. Cas thought Dean looked a bit silly while eating burgers, he always stuffed his face like a chipmunk. Though Cas had been banned from eating burgers in any type of church or family gathering for years, so he had no real right to comment. “I could tell.”

“Sorry,” Cas said. “I hope it didn’t ruin your appetite.” 

“Nah, man,” Dean said. “I’m cool. It’s just a good show.”  
“I think that’s the most complimentary thing anyone has ever said about the way I eat burgers,” Cas noted. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Other people were just too scared to admit it,” Dean said. It was a bit muffled, because he had some food in his mouth.

“No, I believe they were genuinely repulsed,” Cas said. “I’m not entirely surprised that you think differently, though, you’ve always been unlike everyone else that I’ve met.” That seemed like a fair comment. Dean was, in fact, unlike others in Castiel’s life. It was just a fact.

“You think I’m different?” Dean asked. “You might as well be from another species.” Cas just nodded in acknowledgement at this, but Dean realized how negative it sounded as soon as it came out. “In a good way, though! You’re not like, an alien, you’re more like- an angel.” He’d backtracked too far. Dudes do not call other dudes angels, not matter how ethereal the blue eyes of the other dudes are. Dean started scarfing down his food to shut himself up. He was usually better at covering things up than this, something about Cas’s presence somehow just messed it all up.

“I didn’t assume you meant it in a bad way. I do appreciate the compliment, though,” Cas said. “I assure you that I am not nearly as good and obedient as an angel would be, however.”

Dean’s immediate instinct was to say  _ you still sound like one, though.  _ He managed to squash that one, at least. 

“Well, I’m not even as good or obedient as you, so,” Dean argued. He wasn’t sure what it proved, but it felt like it proved something.

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” Cas said.  _ And you don’t know the half of it.  _ “And I’m the one sneaking out to see you and lying to my family. You are much more obedient than I am to your father.”

“Okay, first of all, you sneaking out just makes me a bad influence,” Dean said. “Second of all, I mean, I do try, but I’m not exactly the greatest kid ever.” He took a few more bites of his sandwich, which was nearing its end. It was a good distraction to the birthday memories.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but I’ve seen your behavior, and you are a great kid,” Cas insisted. “You get good grades, you feed and care for your brother much more than should be expected of a sibling, and you always seem to support your father in his decisions.”

Dean shook his head. “You really don’t know what you’re talking about, dude.”  _ I’m going to let you  _ and  _ my dad down, hooray.  _

“I suppose I don’t.” Cas had to admit. “I’m not you, and I can only remark on my own impressions. You are the authority on the subject, and I am entirely willing to hear anything you have to say about it.” He paused. “I’m here. Really.” This was something he could do, at least, without guilt: be there for Dean.

Dean smiled. Cas didn’t even know what he was asking, yet he asked. Dean just shook his head, finished up his sandwich bite, and spilled his thoughts. 

“There’s just a whole bunch of screwed up shit,” Dean said. “I mean, he does say he’s proud of me, just not all that often. And when he does say he’s proud it’s with all these... expectations. Expectations I can’t really meet, and I think he knows that, on some level. I mean, really, if he were that fucking proud he’d be here, wouldn’t he?”

“Whether or not he is here and whether or not he is proud doesn’t determine your goodness, Dean,” Cas stated. He looked Dean straight in the eye, all thoughts of avoiding it be damned. “It determines his.” 

“He tries his best,” Dean said flatly. 

“My mother tries hers,” Cas said.

“It’s not really the same, Cas.” Dean sighed. “I get what you’re trying to say, I really do, but it’s not.”

“I don’t wish to argue with you,” Cas said, trying to make his voice as light as possible. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, Cas,” Dean said, “it’s cool, dude. You are allll good, no need for sorry.” His expression brightened, it almost looked like the very green of his eyes brightened. Cas might’ve been wrong about his father, but there was a limit to how much he could argue with unwavering insistence and belief. 

Cas felt his own insides getting warm as melted chocolate at the soft look on Dean’s face, the green of his eyes. He could lean forward right now and cup Dean’s face in one of his hands, he could lean forward entirely and press Dean’s face to his own. He looked away, and cleared his throat. Dean came back to himself, bitterness rising in his throat, because the way Cas looked away so awkwardly seemed to him to be a clear dismissal of the support and affection Dean was trying to offer. 

“I think we should go,” Cas suggested. He started to stand and put his hand on something warm. His heart caught in his throat at the surprise, and he looked down to see his hand on Dean’s. An impulse ran through him like a shudder, to grip tighter and hold Dean’s hand in his own.

Cas flinched backward. He turned away. “Come on,” he said. 

The Dean started feeling actually physically nauseous at that, and he could taste bile in the back of his throat. A few moments ago Cas was insisting that Dean was good, better than good, now he can’t even bear to make skin contact with him? Did he know? Did he just pity Dean, and if so, why keep up with the charade?

Dean’s eyes stung, but there was no way in hell that he was going to let himself cry. The feeling out of frustration as much as sadness, he just didn’t understand why Cas was acting this way. It was a stupid thing to tear up over, he knew, that, but it didn’t make the feeling go away.

He didn’t even really perceive his walk home, if he and Cas spoke at all it didn’t consciously register and was immediately forgotten.

* * *

 

##  Now

Leaving Gabriel’s place in a huff felt quite satisfying, no matter the conflict of Castiel’s feelings, but it left him with a choice. Medical center or his dorm? His dorm was much closer, and between the time, the bit of rest and the anger, icepack and painkillers Gabriel gave him he’s feeling much better. He’s fairly certain that his injuries aren’t that serious, but going to the medical center means not going to his dorm immediately. Not going there immediately wins, and Cas resumes his walk to the student medical center.

It turns out that his nose is very broken and the concussion isn’t completely ruled out, but Cas gets some bandages for the scratch on his leg and confirmation that his ribs aren’t broken. The student volunteer might give him a suspicious, slightly pitying look when he says that he fell, but it’s worth it. She doesn’t comment, anyway, though she does give him several pamphlets on different kinds of interpersonal violence.

Eventually, though, he does have to head to his dorm. He has afternoon classes tomorrow, he needs to try to at least get some sleep. Hopefully no one will be there when he gets there, it has gotten quite late at this point. Surely he’s not so unlucky that he’ll meet someone in the hallway at three AM.

Castiel is very unlucky, in fact. 

The door to the communal living room opens right as Castiel passes, making him jump. The light of the room floods the dark of the hallway like a spotlight. Castiel squints his eyes. 

“Where have you been?” Uriel demands. Uriel’s sitting there, reading the campus paper- which has to just be for effect, as Castiel knows that Uriel actually scorns the paper for what he considers its biased coverage. 

Uriel folds up and sets the paper beside him. The action is too well done to be unpracticed, and Uriel didn’t actually read newspapers. The idea of Uriel just sitting here, practicing folding up the paper in a suitable manner, is comical. Maybe Uriel just has natural paper abilities. Maybe, though, he likes to be dramatic. Doesn’t everyone?

“Well?” Uriel asks. 

Castiel shrugs. He honestly can’t think of anything to say. He’s far too tired to deal with Uriel right now, he’s tempted to just keep walking to his room and sleep. He could deal with the consequences of that tomorrow, except he knows he really doesn’t want to. 

“Alastair says you two were in an accident,” Uriel says. “He says that it caused you to crack up, to think unclearly. That you ran away, despite your injuries.” Castiel is silent. “We were worried, Castiel.”

The outright lie, though he know it was coming, throws Castiel. The look in Alastair’s eyes flashes through his mind. “An accident.” No part of this was accidental. It takes Castiel a moment to respond. 

“I went to the student medical center,” Castiel explains. “My injuries are minor.”

“Then couldn’t we probably treat them?” Uriel asks. “Or at least identify if further medical service was necessary?”

“I thought-” Castiel stops. He breathes in and holds it. He considers. “Why not ask professionals?”

“Your injuries were minor, and I believe we were nearer, actually,” Uriel says. “Even so, why not call us? After you got treatment, if not as soon as you went to the medical center.”

“My phone’s dead,” Castiel lies. It’s just on silent. He has no intention of checking it. 

“We were worried, Castiel,” Uriel says. “You were injured, alone, and confused, to our knowledge. We nearly decided to call your parents.”

Castiel doesn’t answer this. He doubts that Uriel really wants an answer, and he’s sure that Uriel would’ve mentioned it already if he had spoken to Castiel’s mother. That would have been the beginning of the conversation. No, Castiel’s safe, for now. It’s just a warning. 

“We decided not to worry them,” Uriel continues. “Your family has had enough... troubles.”

Castiel smiles at that statement. The words and the smile both are bitter and true. 

“That’s considerate of you,” Castiel says. 

“We expect you to behave differently in the future,” Uriel says. “We know you don’t like to talk, but sometimes it’s necessary. Keep us informed. You go off on your own, next thing you know you’re like, well,” Uriel draws out the ‘well’ with a smile, “Balthazar.”

It’s possible that Uriel had meant for that comment to really be about Balthazar, though improbably. The family fractures and Castiel’s own disinterest are the only things keeping Uriel in charge at this place, and Castiel’s aware of this in a distant way. He doesn’t really care, but he supposes that it makes Uriel feel good to remind Castiel to stay in line. 

He still stiffens from the comment, but only because of his recent interaction. His siblings, their lies and mistakes as well as his own, all seem closer to him tonight. More real. The past is closer than ever, though there’s no way for Uriel to know this. 

Uriel curls his lips at the reaction. He seems satisfied with this level of acknowledgement from Castiel. 

Castiel nods, not trusting himself to speak. He turns to keep walking, done with this conversation after everything else that this night has had to offer him. 

“Where are you going?” Uriel calls after him. Castiel closes his eyes and breathes a bit more. He reminds himself that he doesn’t need Uriel to be another problem in his life, that he has enough to deal with. 

“To sleep,” Castiel calls over his shoulder. It’s been a rough night. 

He doesn’t know if confronting Alastair, going to Gabriel’s club, or yelling at Gabriel and then storming off were good ideas. He doesn’t know if they were wrong or right but, right at this moment, those questions don’t really matter. Even if every bit of it was wrong and selfish, even if Castiel doesn’t deserve rest right now, that’s not going to stop him from sleeping.

He goes to sleep immediately. It’s a thick, dark sleep without any dreams, and Castiel can only be grateful for that. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, anyway, next chapter will be at the same time. This chapter is mostly the consequences of the last few chapters, because of course there are consequences.
> 
> See you again Thursday, folks.


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas found Dean after he went missing a short while.
> 
> Now sitting through a discussion section with Castiel reminds Dean just how lost he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because of a complicated situation I am doing this update on my phone. I am going to update this fic on time-ish if it kills me.

## Then

Cas hummed as he walked the familiar path to Dean’s home. It was an unusually warm week, it felt like summer would be here soon, even though the first official day of spring hadn’t passed too long ago. Really, summer shouldn’t have been anything to get too excited about, weather-wise, as it was unbelievably hot and stupidly humid. Even though Cas knew that, the weather still livened his mood. The world was always so beautiful to admire. The late evening light shined through the trees just right to get that perfect shade of green, one of Cas’s favorites. It could only be brought out by just the right angle of light through a leaf, or a stained glass window, or on Dean’s irises.

Castiel had managed to avoid any mention of kissing, he even felt he’d managed to avoid touching pretty well, since Zachariah's youth sermon. Though he still thought about it- everytime he saw Dean, it seemed, it reminded him of their practice. He still enjoyed his time with Dean, and thought that this struggle was in line with what he had been taught being a good person would be like. It had to be a struggle, of course. Right then and there Castiel thought he might have been winning.

He knew it was wrong, even if it didn’t feel that way, but he couldn’t stop seeing Dean. At the very least their friendship meant something.

His relatively high mood faded when he got to the room, and a very freaked out Sam opened the door instead of Dean. The kid wasn’t in tears, or anything, but his voice was higher pitched than usual and his eyes were just on the wrong side of tired and twitchy.

“Have you seen Dean?” is what Sam started with. Not a great sign.

Castiel hesitated before answering, not because he was unsure but because it took him a moment to process the exact implications of this question. “No.”

“I haven’t seen him, I was supposed to meet him at the bus stop but he wasn’t there- and he’s always there! He sent me a text that he was out, but that was hours ago, like eight hours ago, and he’s not answering his phone! He missed dinner, he doesn’t do that,” Sam explained all in one breath, “at least, he rarely does it, and not without telling me!”

“Alright,” Cas said. It was a filler word, of acknowledgement and hopefully some comfort  to himself and Sam. “Have you been here the entire time?”

“I checked the really nearby places, like the church and library,” Sam said. “Except he wasn’t there, and I started to worry that he would come back while I was out. Then what would he do? If his phone was dead, then he’d freak out!”

“That’s a good thought,” Cas reassured him. “You should stay here, in case he does come back. My phone is on and charged, so I can go looking for him. Do you want my number?”

They exchanged numbers and put together a quick list of places to check.

“Have you thought about calling Jo and her mother?” Cas thought to ask.

“Ellen?” Sam asked. He thought a moment before deciding to tell Castiel. “Not, I mean, um... Ellen can be really pissy with Dad about him being out of town and stuff. We’re still supposed to call her for emergency situations, if it got to midnight I definitely would have called her, but she doesn’t really... She doesn’t know that Dad’s out of town right now.”

“Oh,” Cas said. “Just keep your phone on and handy. We should call her if Dean’s not in any of the places on our list. Whether she knows about John or not.”

Sam nods in agreement. “I know.”

So Cas set out, reminding Sam to lock the door while he was gone. Dean could knock. It wasn’t really necessary, Sam knew the procedure for being home alone, but it seemed like a good time to double-check those sorts of things.

As Cas started out, twitching the slightest bit at the sound of Sam closing the door behind him, he had to practice breathing. A thousand terrible scenarios went through his head, some from the safety lectures from his family and church, others the product of Gabriel’s urban legend knowledge, all with a bit of his own imagination put in. He tried to push these thoughts out of his head, with some success. Dean was probably just... out, somewhere, and had accidentally turned his phone off. Probably.

Cas was going to kill him when he found him.

The movie rental store was empty, as was the fast food burger joint. Cas knew that there were plenty more places on their list, but each empty spot doubled his anxiety further anyway.

It was almost unbelievable to see Dean, there on the third place on their list. Cas found Dean behind the dumpster in the parking lot of the convenient store. He was sitting on the curb, a few beers next to him, both opened and unopened, and one in his hand. It looked like he had started with a six-pack. He was staring off into space, and didn’t even see Cas coming.

He noticed when Cas shouted at him, though.

“Dean!” Cas yelled. He went straight for him, his heart pounding in his ears as relief gave way to anger. “Dean Winchester, you better have one excellent explanation for this. It better be miraculous beyond comprehension, because there is not a single thing I could think of to excuse this.”

Dean stared at Cas like a stoner at a cop.

“Wha?” He managed, and Cas plowed on.

“Do you have any idea how worried Sam is?” He demanded. “You have been gone for eight hours.”

“What?” Dean jerked up. “Noooooooo. It hasn’t been-” he checked his phone. It was dead. He checked his watch. “Shit. Shit shit shit, fuck, damn.” He looked up at Cas, who had managed to come closer without seeming to actually take a step, and was now looming above him like a storm cloud. “I am- I’m so sorry, man, buddy. Wait. Sam. Sammy’s alright, right?”

“Sam is about to chew his fingernails with worry, but otherwise he’s fine,” Cas said. “Your miraculous explanation has yet to come, Dean.”

“I- shit, Cas,” Dean might not have been able to swear his way out of his problems, but he couldn’t stop himself from trying. “I don’t have one. I fucked up.”

“You did,” Cas agreed. He sat down next to Dean on the curb, and pulled out his phone. “I’ll let Sam know that you’re fine.”

“He didn’t tell Ellen, did he?” Dean asked. “Ellen’d be pissed with Dad if she knew. We might not get to see Jo anymore.”

“He considered it, but he hadn’t called her yet,” Cas said. “Dean, are you drunk?”

Dean considers this question. “Not really. A bit tipsy, maybe. I’ve been drinking pretty slowly, it just seemed the thing to do.”

“The thing to do about what?” Cas asked.

“Everything,” Dean said. Cas waited for him to go on, so he did. “Dad called a couple of days ago, said he won’t be back ‘til next week. Even then, it might be a shorter visit.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas said. “I know how much your father’s presence means to you.”

“Yeah, well, I knew it would happen,” Dean said. “That’s the drawback of staying in one place. Less time with dad. And I knew that- I agreed to it. Sam always wants to stay in one place and I had- I had some friends here.” He nudged Cas. “I wanted to stay here, and I knew what that meant, and I really can’t do anything about it. Not sure why I’m so fucking upset.” He took a short sip of his beer.

“It’s acceptable and even unavoidable to be upset about things whether or not they were known beforehand or you have the ability to do anything about them.” Cas decided to reach forward and grab Dean’s arm. Dean needed the comfort more than he needed to worry about his sexuality right now.

“I guess I should go back and face Sam now,” Dean said.

“Sam is highly relieved to know that you’re fine, and no longer under the strain of urgency,” Cas said. “You’ll have to face him, and I daresay you’ll deserve it, but you can take awhile more here.”

“You don’t get fucked-up about your dad,” Dean said. Whether it was a way or putting himself down or just an absent observation Cas couldn’t tell. “He’s away even more than mine.”

“No, it doesn’t bother me as much,” Cas agreed. “I have my mother, though, and I have my siblings without having to take care of them. And, to be completely honest, my house isn’t always... better, with the addition of my father. He and my mother may be married, but they are far from loving toward one another.”

“That’s fucked up,” Dean noted.

“I suppose,” Cas said. “You could call your father, if you need to. Maybe he’d be able to come home, at least for a little bit, if he knew how much it bothered you.”

Dean smiled, but shook his head. He rubbed Cas’s hand with his thumb. “I can deal with it. I gotta, at least for Sam’s sake.”

“Yes,” Cas said. “You do very well at that, Dean. Honestly. Is- is there any particular reason why this time is different?”

“It’s not really just Dad,” Dean admitted.

“No?”

“A girl asked me out today,” Dean said. “Cassie. She’s smart, and funny, and fucking gorgeous. I’d been out with her before, earlier in the year, but then she got a boyfriend. They broke up, though, and she asked me out.”

“I really don’t see how this is bad,” Cas said. He wasn’t unfamiliar with missing social cues or reading situations incorrectly, but this seemed like a new level of mystery.

“I really like her, you know,” Dean said. “She’s great. She’s awesome, actually, like fucking perfect.”

“Hmm,” Cas said, because he had no idea what he was supposed to say.

“I said no,” Dean continued. “I just... said no.”

Cas just gave him a quizzical look. Dean took one look at him and gave a tired smile. There was Cas, confused as ever, expecting answers to come or to work it out for himself.

“My dad, you know, he gave me this talk on my birthday,” Dean said. Cas felt like he may well have speaking Spanish, this was making less and less sense as Dean went on. “About how after I finished playing around I’d find a good wife, and be a good husband. About how I’d be a better man than he is. He just- he has so many things that he wants me to be and I don’t want to let him down. There are just some things-” Dean cut off. “I’m just not sure if I’m the son he expects me to be.”

“Dean,” Cas said. “My brother Gabriel spoke to me a little while ago, as you know. He said I was a model child, and he meant that I fit the expectations of our family, but I don’t. None of us do. I doubt that even Michael does completely and I-” Cas glanced down at Dean’s lips, only for a moment, and took a shaky breath in. “-I definitely don’t.”

“Yeah, but your family expectations are pretty fucking crazy, to be honest,” Dean said.

“Are your father’s expectations utterly sane?” Cas asked. “He gave you a gun, Dean, to protect your family with. You’re fifteen.”

Dean had to laugh a bit at that. “I guess all our families are a little crazy.”

They sat a moment in silence. Cas leaned in, just a little bit, he couldn’t help it. He immediately scorned his self control, but didn’t want to lean out again. In case Dean noticed.

“Why don’t you do stuff like this anymore?” Dean asked. Before he could stop himself, or maybe because he couldn’t stop himself.

“What?” Cas asked.

“You don’t- you don’t touch me anymore, dude,” Dean explained. “Every since the ki- the practice. You don’t touch me, and you move away when I touch you. This is the first time since then that you’ve actually seemed okay with sitting next to me the way, you know, the way we used to.”

“Oh.” Cas felt blood rush to his face, embarrassment topped with a little bit of shame. He looked away, out of that shame and out of the hope that Dean might not notice the blush. He thought Dean didn’t notice the way he touched him, or when he stopped.

“It was stupid idea, the practice kiss thing,” Dean said. “I shouldn't have suggested it, Cas-”

“You didn’t suggest it, Dean,” Cas interrupted. Dean couldn’t blame himself for this, that was the opposite of what Cas wanted. It was the opposite of what was fair, or even true. “I brought the whole thing up, and I really shouldn’t have. I realized later that- that it was inappropriate. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Well, I mean, you might’ve brought it up,” Dean said, “but, really, it was me who suggested we actually do. I don’t think the thought even occurred to you.” _Of course it wouldn’t_.

“No, but I certainly,” Cas took in a deep breath and made a decision. He couldn’t let Dean think that this was his fault. “I certainly enjoyed it more than I should have.” He unhooked his hand from Dean’s, and pulled it away. He wasn’t sure Dean would want his hand after Cas was finished speaking. “Dean.” Cas looked hard at the bit of parking lot in front of him. It was a light, worn out grey, with a crack down the middle that had been patched up with a black streak. “It’s not your fault that I’ve been pulling away. It’s me. Father Zachariah- he gave a speech and-”

"And what, you realized that you didn’t want to _touch_ me?” Dean asked.

“No!” Cas said. He looked over at Dean, right into his eyes. “Dean, I realized that I did. I did want to touch you, and I did want to kiss you.”

“What.” It wasn’t even a question. Dean was looking into Castiel’s eyes, wide and scared- he had been ready for rejection, revulsion, and he just couldn’t process this.

"I was your friend, Dean,” Cas said. “I was. But I still wanted to kiss you. I didn’t only love you in a friendly way- I-I loved you in another way, as well. I realized that.” Dean was just staring at him, and Cas couldn’t stand it. He looked away. “That why I stopped touching you.” Cas closed his eyes and waited for Dean’s disgust.

“Cas,” Dean whispered, barely more than a breath but enough for Cas to hear. Cas slowly opened his eyes. There had been a softness in the way Dean spoke his name. If there was anything Cas had expected, it wasn’t that. “Cas, look at me.”

So Cas did, he brought up his head and looked over at Dean, who looked at him with a strange sort of awe in his eyes. As though Castiel were some sort of revelation. Dean slowly put down the beer, without breaking eye contact.

Then he leaned forward and, despite how obvious his intended action was, it still surprised Cas when he kissed him.

* * *

 

## Now

"Anna behaved selfishly, she defied social norms in a way that she knew would offend her family, and she put all of the emotional burden of a happy life on this one relationship,” Castiel explains. “She may or may not have deserved what happened to her, but she certainly could have foreseen or prevented it.”

“Seriously?” Dean starts in as soon as he finishes. Castiel closes his eyes and breathes in. His head and body are still sore from all the events of last night, the physical and verbal fights, and he really doesn’t feel up to this.

Especially not from Dean.

“You say ‘she behaved selfishly’ and then you say she ‘may or may not have deserved it’, like you’re not passing judgment?” Dean asks. “Reserving judgment for media analysis doesn’t mean stating an opinion and then pretending it’s objective. Anna takes the actions she takes because she’s desperate in her life, you can’t judge a character for not being able to see the future.”

    Cas turns in his seat to look straight at Dean, ignoring how his ribs complain about this action with twinges of pain.

"Anna Karenina wasn’t unintelligent, Dean,” Cas says. “And the societal condemnation around affairs and divorce weren’t secret. She knew what was coming, and she still made her choices. It’s not an opinion, Dean, it’s an observation.”

“Where _does_ observation turn to opinion?” Professor Mosley cuts in before Dean has a chance to. Dean’s still glaring at Cas, mouth already open, ready to refute whatever the hell he just said, not matter what it was. After a couple more seconds of angry staring, both slowly turn to the professor.  “What’s objective, and what’s subjective? Is anything objective? These are interesting questions for Mr. Winchester and Mr. Novak to bring up, I think it may help this class’s analysis skills to consider it a bit. Let’s hear some opinions.”

“Well, I think that observations are things that are directly stated or implied in the book, or poem, or whatever,” Dean says. “When you jump off those things to start forming judgemental conclusions about characters, like saying a character is selfish, that’s when you get into the personal opinion zone.” He looks pointedly back at Cas, or rather, the back of Cas’s head. Cas turns around, intending to give Dean a cold look, but still feeling too tired to deal with all of this.

Cas looks tired. All college students look tired, but Cas usually has a stable level of grumpy-tiredness contained in the bags of his eyes that doesn’t affect his actual energy level. Right now Cas doesn’t just look more tired than usual, he looks drained. Like he’s just going through the motions. Dean tries to push down the twinge of concern that he feels, and glares twice as hard to make up for it. He isn’t about to be sympathetic to that asshole.

Maybe there was a time when Dean would’ve tried to get him some shitty convenience store hot chocolate, and definitely wrapped Cas up in a blanket with him, but Cas made it clear that he doesn’t want those kind of things. Unless Cas made out with him when he was drunk, but he probably didn’t. Dean may not remember exactly what happened, but he knows that’s not probable. It’s basically impossible, in fact. The most that would’ve happened would’ve been Dean embarrassing himself trying to kiss Cas- which, hopefully, also didn’t happen.

Trying to remember the night he doesn’t remember makes Dean look back at Cas, again. One thing he can figure out is that Cas, despite his claims to want nothing to do with Dean, walked Dean home. Really this means Dean could owe him one. _Or,_ Dean thinks, _it could just be him making up all the assholishness._ Either way, Dean can’t ignore how very tired Cas looks today.

"Are you planning to answer, Mr. Novak?” Missouri asks. She seems concerned at the fact that Cas hasn’t tried to butt in already, especially considered the rather specific end to Dean’s remark. Cas just shrugs. He felt like he spent all of his fight last night, and none is left for Dean. He turns around again, to see that Dean now just looks confused.

“Seems like you may have won that one,” Benny mutters to Dean. Dean nods, not taking his eyes off of Cas. Cas looks away again. Dean frowns whenever he’s confused, and Dean frowning is just an adorable invitation to cheer him up. Or at least it was. Cas can’t think like that anymore. Like Karenina of Anna Karenina, he’s made his choices. He knew what they would cost him. He just wishes the cost didn’t have to be in his English class.

He knew what fighting Alastair would cost him, too. He wonders why he choose to do that. It seemed like the right thing to do, Meg and her friends were on the wrong side of the line, but they never deserved threats. Did he only do it because it was the right thing to do, though? If he did it, in any part, hoping to get back some of what he’d lost by rejecting homosexuality, then he was delusional and aware of it. All he’s managed is to somehow lose more power and alienate himself further in his dorm politics.

It’s alright. It has to be. It was a choice, and he made it. Gabriel made a choice, too. He got out of that house, but surely he knew that his family relationships would be the cost. If Gabriel got Anna, at least one sibling, back then that’s more than he had bargained for. _He doesn’t deserve to get Cas back, too._

The thought is almost painfully cold, but Castiel couldn’t deny having it. Someone else in the class is talking, someone who’s not Dean this time, but Cas isn’t paying attention. He can feel Dean still looking at him. He’s not even sure if Dean is still looking at him, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still feel it.

It would be nice, to have an older brother to talk to again. To protect him, in those small ways that he can. It would be nice to have Dean back again. But all of these thoughts are impossible. Wishful thinking will be the death of him and he knows it, but his throat still catches. Gabriel wouldn’t judge him for Dean. He owns a nightclub, what room would he have to judge him? What a lovely fantasy it is, being able to talk to someone about Dean. Not as good as talking to Dean himself, talking to Dean the way they used to, open and loving and nervous and fearless. Not as good as talking to Dean himself would be, but still good.

The idea is so foreign to Cas, the idea that he could be with Dean and not fear it destroying his relationships with everyone else who loves him. It’s ridiculous, it’s insane. Dean has always been too good to be true, he’s always come with the fear, guilt, and lies. He was worth it, too - until he wasn’t. Still.

Cas puts down his pencil. He’s not paying enough attention to take notes, and holding it only draws his attention to how much his fingers are trembling. He feel tears come to his eyes, and he closes them. He can’t cry here, so he tries desperately to hold them back. He feels them sting his eyes, but he grits his teeth and digs his fingernails into his palms to distract himself. He’s just so tired, so much has happened, and just the thought- the dream- that he could have Dean without the fear-

Cas takes a deep breath in and holds it. He does this a couple more times. He opens his eyes, and despite how his breath shudders, his eyes are, miraculously, dry enough not to leak. They may be watery, but he’s not crying. It’s one of God’s small mercies, that he’s not crying.

He thinks he’s been hollowed out. His feelings have all burnt out, desire and anger mixed together, until there’s nothing left but a shell.

“Does he look okay to you?” Dean whispers to Benny, several rows up.

“Who cares?” Benny mutters back. Dean doesn’t have an answer for that, so he just leans away. Cas is shaking. He has to stare at Cas to see it, but he’s certain of it. Cas is struggling alone and here he is, feet away, and unable to help him.

Dean reminds himself that Cas doesn’t want his help. He’s said outright that he doesn’t want Dean’s help, and nothing he’s done has indicated otherwise. There’s not only nothing for Dean to do, there’s nothing that Dean should do. It should be a relief, that it’s not up to him, but it only makes him feel more helpless. He wishes Cas would look at him.

Cas wishes Dean could touch him. Just a hand on his shoulder, an arm around him, something. He’s facing away from Dean, so he can almost imagine Dean coming around from behind and giving him a hug. Just leaning down and holding him. It’s impossible, but Cas can almost feel the warmth of Dean’s embrace despite the way the air conditioning in the classroom raises goosebumps on his skin. Everything is so impossible. Life is so impossible.

Life, it seems to Castiel, has always been impossible. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, sometimes miraculous, sometimes horrible, always impossible. Right now everything seems to be in the latter categories, and life is made up of more and more impossible tasks stacked up together. Facing his roommates, talking to his sister, speaking to Gabriel, not speaking to Gabriel, getting the through music school while being classmates with Meg, getting through the rest of his English class while having to sit in the same room as Dean. Cas cannot, at this moment, imagine the solutions or outcomes to any of these things.

So Dean and Cas both sit through the rest of the lecture and discussion, hearing the words everyone is saying but not absorbing the, both feeling helpless. For the first time both of them are silent for most of the class.

“At least he was quiet this time,” Benny says as they leave. “You seemed pretty quiet too, brother, anything bugging you? Or were you just lacking motivation without your usual squabble with him?”

Dean forces a smile. “Second one.”

“Hey, Dean,” Benny says, “if you ever plan on dating any guys in the future, know they’re not all like that one.”

“I know,” Dean says. He imagines what Benny would say if he knew that Cas was the boy Dean had fallen in love with four years ago. If he knew that Dean might’ve come onto him while drunk, earlier this very semester.

Benny being bisexual himself, he’s of course been supportive of Dean. He’s been pretty good with not pushing it, too. Dean wonders if that would still be true if Benny knew more than that, if he knew what a wreck Dean really is.

Dean packs up pretty slowly so that he can watch Cas leave. He doesn’t have to delay too much, Cas shoots out of there like he’s been forced to sit on a tack for ninety minutes instead of just go to an English class. Something’s wrong, and Dean knows it.

There’s just nothing he can do.

Missouri calls Dean over as he tries to leave class. “Mr. Winchester? Come over here, boy.”

Dean waves Benny to go ahead without him, and walks on over.

“I actually thought I did pretty well today keeping my thoughts to myself,” Dean says.

“You did,” Missouri agrees. “A little too well, actually, and your boy up here looked even worse.”

“He’s not my boy.”

“Well, whoever’s boy he is, he looked far from alright,” Missouri says.

"Why don’t you pull him out after class, then?” Dean asks.

“Because right now he’s not seeing what’s a foot in front of his nose and ‘cause he left before I could get a word out of my mouth,” Missouri explains, “and because a professor asking after someone means nothing if that someone doesn’t have friends asking after him, too. Does he?”

“Does he what?” Dean asks. He knows what Professor Mosley is asking, he just has no idea how to answer.

'Does he have friends looking after him?” She asks.

"How should I know?” Dean asks. “He’s not my friend.” And, despite the rudeness, he turns around and walks on out of there.

He can hear her sigh behind him, and he knows she’s just shaking her head. She doesn’t need to say any more, Dean’s filled with enough turmoil as it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There! They did it! THEY FIGURED OUT THEIR FEELINGS AND SPOKE TO EACH OTHER!
> 
> All on their own and while going through shitty external messages from their families. I'm proud of them. They got together and it only took like 75k words.
> 
> Now they just need to get together a second time while dealing with even more baggage.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean and Cas hung out in a library more, but got very little studying done.
> 
> Now Castiel faces Meg in class as their teacher gives them both a proposition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this chapter is a day late. Realized I hadn't posted it at like 1 AM last night and decided to post it now instead. Forgive me?

##  Then

The discovery that the desire for kissing was mutual brought many questions to Castiel’s mind, and sharpened those already there. Was this as right as it felt? Could anything be that right? Could his family be wrong about this? He knew his family wasn’t right all the time, he certainly didn’t live his life as though he thought they were, but could they have really been that wrong? Was this just as wrong as his uncle preached? 

Would he be willing to stop even if it was? 

The last question bothered him most of all, because he genuinely didn’t have an answer for it. Cas had always tried to do what was right, and mostly what got in the way of that was his uncertainness as to what “right” always was. The idea that he would know something was wrong, not just be uncertain about it but actively know, and do it anyway was honestly disturbing to him. Yet he still thought he might, if what was wrong was kissing Dean. Touching him. Laying on the bed with him, legs intertwined, feeling the other’s skin and breath, facing each other so that every time one of them opened his eyes the other would be there.

It was better than burgers. 

Sam was often at the room, and Dean didn’t want him know, and Cas’s room always came with such risk that they only once ever tried anything there. So they had to find other places to be theirs. 

The library could work, hid away between far off bookshelves. They had to be quiet, but there was a kind of feeling to that, a magic of shared whispers and soft laughter and slight yet ever present risk. They could also actually work a bit on Dean’s English homework, there, too, if they could ever concentrate. They could sit, facing each other, pressed together by the thin aisles, with the intimacy of a private place in public. 

“You have any favorite books?” Dean asked him once. 

“The selection of books I was allowed to read was... limited,” Cas said. 

“Bet you’d be a big reader,” Dean said. “You’re almost as much of a nerd as Sam is, it’s just cuter on you.”

“Almost every single thing that I know about that you determine to be ‘nerdy’ was introduced to me by you,” Cas had to point out. “If I am a nerd, than you are as well.”

“Well, am I a cute one?” Dean asked. 

“Of course,” Cas said. This shouldn’t even be a question. “You’re a cute everything.”

Dean considered this for a moment. “Nah,” he shook his head, “I’m too manly to be cute.”

Cas leaned forward, without warning, until his nose was just a centimeter from Dean’s, his eyes filling Dean’s vision. He paused there, and Dean held his breath. A smile flashed across Cas’s lips, and he pressed them against Dean’s for just a moment. 

Cas leaned back again, and Dean didn’t move an inch. Cas didn’t break contact with his eyes. Dean’s whole face was red, he could blush away his freckles sometimes and it could reach the tips of his ears at other times. 

“Manly you may be,” Cas said, “but you can not tell me that you’re not cute.”

Dean went just a bit redder at that, and he bumped a leg with Cas. 

“You just have fucked up judgement,” he told Cas. 

“It's interesting you say that. Weren’t you asking me what my favorite book was a minute ago?” Cas asked. 

“And you managed to totally sidestep the question,” Dean said. “Yeah. I didn’t say your favorite book would be a good one.”

“Do you have a favorite book, Dean?” Cas asked. He may have sidestepped the question, but he didn’t care to address it. 

“I like science fiction sometimes,” Dean said. “Humor too, but it’s gotta be good. Everything’s gotta be good. I like it when fiction runs a bit dark- not meaningless dark, but real.”

“Hmmm.” Cas considered. Science fiction was a top category of books that “one shouldn’t” read, especially considering how much man usurped God in them. Cas himself had been on a kick of doing things he shouldn’t, however, and he was a bit curious. 

“Like what?” Cas asked. “Any specific books, authors?”

“Well, you might not like him, he’s a bit of a heretic,” Dean said, “but Vonnegut is a particular favorite of mine. I read  _ Slaughterhouse Five _ for an English project last year, because it was the shortest, and it was honestly pretty awesome. Picked out  _ Cat’s Cradle _ in the library last place we lived, and I was actually a decent way into it when we moved. Got sorta distracted after we got here though, Dad left pretty much immediately and left me most of the moving logistics shit.”

“It might be in this library,” Cas suggested. “You could check it out here, finally finish it.”

“You know, I could,” Dean said. He sounded thoughtful. 

“I could always check out his books, as well,” Cas said. “I’m certain I can defend against heresy on my own, and sometimes...” He stared at the ground, his expression thoughtful.

“Sometimes?” Dean prompted. Cas looked back at him. Dean was looking at him intently, invested in whatever he was going to say next. Maybe this was why being around Dean turned Cas into a talker. He was ready to be heard and Dean- Dean was actually interested in hearing was he wanted to say. There was a thrill in being able to say things. It prompted him to think of what he really wanted to say. It prompted him to consider what he, himself, really thought.

“Sometimes I think it’s good to hear voices beyond my family,” Cas said. “Beyond my father, my mother, Father Zachariah. If I only listened to them, then,” Cas lifted his hand up to Dean’s face, to feel the line of his jaw and how it sloped up, “I’d never be here.”

“Honestly the world’s expanded a bit for me too, Cas,” Dean said. “If someone told me before I’d moved that I’d be having the time of my life trying to quietly make out with a dude in a library, then- well- I’d probably just have been really weirded out.”

“Is it weird, then, that I’m a guy?” Cas asked.

“I mean,” Dean said. “It’s sorta weird how not weird it is.”

“I’m not sure that makes sense, Dean,” Cas remarked. “But I suppose I can accept it. Much of the world doesn’t seem to.”

“I mean, is it weird to you?” Dean asked. “You’re the one with the fire-and-brimstone threats for being with a guy.”

“Technically, since no one knows I’m with a guy, no one can threaten me for it,” Cas said. Dean opened his mouth, probably to tell him off for being a smartass, so he continued. “I know what you mean, though. In some ways it’s normal, because there’s always been this- this duality to the way I’ve seen everyone around me behave. There’s what you preach, and what you do, and it hasn’t really seemed to match up for anyone. My father’s never there, mother is often- often not as kind a mother as she may claim to be, and I’m fairly certain that Father Zachariah has been using the Church’s money for personal gain for years now.”

“Church fund is his own little slush fund, eh?” Dean asked. “Can’t say I’m too surprised. That dude has one nice watch for a preacher, and who has a $900 Bible?”

“I think it actually may be worth more than that,” Cas said. He looked away, and leaned back. “It’s all very confusing. I just keep my head down, go along with it, and try to do the right thing, when I can.”

“Is this the right thing?” Dean couldn’t help but ask. “Are we the right thing? Pretty sure this wasn’t the kind of dating my dad had in mind for me.”

“I’m pretty sure my family wouldn’t even approve of dating, much less-” Cas gestures toward Dean. “So I suppose we’ll have to figure out the right thing on our own.”

“Morality: it’s subjective,” Dean said. “See, I’ve learned some of those English vocab words.”

“That’s certainly... a new concept for me,” Cas considers. “Subjective morality. Just like music.”

“Okay, I’m going to have to stop you, because some music is just objectively fucking terrible,” Dean said, “and other music is just objectively fucking awesome.”

Cas just laughed. “I guess it’s always going to be more complicated,” he said. He leaned forward again. “I guess I can deal with that.”

“There’s probably a book on it in here somewhere,” Dean said. 

“I’ll just go find a book about morality and life while you look for the next Vonnegut book,” Cas said. He seemed like he might be joking, but Dean couldn’t really tell. 

“When are we getting up to go find these books, then?” Dean asked. He smirked and tilted his head down to look up at Cas with a glint in his eye. 

“Hmm, not quite yet,” Cas answered. He was inching forward, and he could see Dean lean forward to meet him. He put his hand back up to Dean’s face and they kissed. It was a bit before they got up and went off to find the book. There was so much to do here, in the quiet of the library shelves, where Cas could hear every movement Dean made and every breath he took, where Dean could press his hand up to Cas’s chest and feel his heartbeat through the thin fabric of his button-up shirt. 

It was a while before they got up to search for books. 

* * *

##  Now

His Seminar in Musical Performance, Composition, and Improvisation the next afternoon is both a reprieve from the recent drama of his life and a continuation of it. He now sits in the front, as far from Meg as he can be, and if they ever have to play together she is as efficient and businesslike as possible, aside from her strong streak of passive aggressive sarcasm.

He just keeps quiet. It’s for the best, this has been proven time after time. 

This class he almost wants to go up to her and tell her what happened. Ask about the red scribbles on the LGBT+ Center, what she thought of it. Tell her about how he stood up to Alastair. She might understand, and be sympathetic- he might get his friend back.Then again, when Castiel does finally start talking he never seems to know when to stop, and he might just let too much slip. 

He decides not to risk it. Pretending that nothing happened is skill gifted to him by his family. At the front of the class Professor Rufus Turner starts in on one of his ‘olden days’ stories. His stories are always about music, music of every genre, from jazz to pop to rock to punk. His stories tend to range from the 1920s to the 1980s, though Castiel wouldn’t put it past him to slip in some 1910s or 90s stories. This part of the class- listening to their professor talk about music- always made Castiel antsy to play, but actual playing made him more likely to have to interact with Meg.

Castiel tries to avoid both his anticipation and anxiety about the improv pair ups they’re going to do later this class, by focusing on Professor Turner’s story. At least Rufus tells a good story; his stories ranged from including him as a character to having origins so dubious Rufus had to admit they probably weren’t true, and yet all his stories still had some realness, some verisimilitude that Castiel couldn’t deny. It should be easy to get into Prof. Turner’s story, which was about early jazz musicians in New Orleans, a story he told as though he had been there despite that being chronologically impossible, but since that night Castiel has wanted to do nothing but play. Today isn’t an exception.  

It’s only been two days since that night, after being in a physical confrontation with someone he lives with, threatening to call the police, meeting his brother again for the first time in two years, screaming at and walking out on his brother- it’s a testament to the surreal strangeness of life that a completely ordinary class would still happen the next afternoon. That Castiel would get up and get dressed as usual, and walk the familiar way to the studio like nothing happened. To the people here, nothing did happen. They’re just waiting for Rufus to gift them with more of the secrets of music, as usual. 

The story Prof. Turner is telling at the front of the class seems entertaining and interesting, but Castiel finds himself unable to engage with it. By the time Rufus finishes up his story Castiel is drumming his fingers against his thigh and practically twitching with the desire to get his hands on one of his instruments. He played all day today, practicing piano in a room he’d reserved in advance as an excuse to avoid everyone, and he’s still itching for more of the freedom and peace music will give him. 

“And that’s how a strangle little bit of fusion music called jazz was born, and changed just about all the new music since,” Rufus concludes. “In light of this story of awful teamwork and the folk who starred in it setting themselves up to crash and burn, let’s work on some duets! Improve duets, on the lesson schedule, you knew it was coming, time to show off!”

Many jump up and scramble to grab another student, but Castiel makes his way straight to his instrument locker. He gets out his violin as, after the piano, it’s the most familiar instrument he has. It’s the same violin that he’s owned for years, and simply feeling the shape of it is soothing. He plays a few notes to warm up, ignoring the pandemonium around him. 

Someone will choose him. At the very beginning of the class he and Meg would pair up every time, but then Rufus started demanding that people pair up with new partners- and enforcing it. Even that first day without Meg there were people willing to play with Castiel. They might not know him or talk to him, but they’ve heard him play. 

At this point, considering his excessive, life-avoiding practice schedule, it seems like most people at the music school have heard him play. 

Castiel starts into a simple etude to warm up. He’s already absorbed enough in what he’s doing that the voice beside him makes him jump. 

“Hey,” Meg says. She’s gotten out her guitar already, and it’s propped up by her feet. Castiel looks around them to see if she could be speaking to someone else, despite her being about two feet from him. Not only is she not speaking to someone else, most other people are already paired up. He and Meg are some of few left. 

“Unfortunately you got decent musical skills to make up for your shit personality,” Meg says, “so I’ll be playing with you today. Follow my lead, don’t push it.”

Castiel nods. The question of whether or not Meg’s seen the remains of Alastair’s graffiti jumps to his tongue, but he keeps his mouth closed. He’s not sure what he would tell her about it, and about his part in what it is, no matter how she answered that question. Not to mention that it would probably only succeed in making her suspicious of him, no matter how he’d tried to stop it. He follows her to one of the practice rooms.

“I’m thinking of doing something a bit more modern than what you learn toward,” Meg explains as they set up the room they claimed. Rufus will come around and evaluate them, and then encourage them to check out any of the other students that might still be playing.  “Think you can handle that?”

“I’m experienced with all kinds of music,” Castiel says. It’s true. Between Dean and his sister his musical influences are diverse, though he doesn’t always appreciate the reminders that this music brings up.

He’s ready for whatever Meg is going to throw at him, however. He’s certain of it. It’s probably that it’s going to be something angry and, if so, Castiel will only be more pleased. He’s feeling angry music today. It’s fitting.

When Meg starts it’s not the fast paced alt rock intro he suspected. It’s more recent than classical music, but not at all modern. It might be considered a rock ballad, it certainly has its basis in a rock ballad that Castiel has heard Meg practicing occasionally, but other genres keep imposing their influences on it. She introduces a background jazz feel by changing the chords a few bars in, and sets out two quick bars after the first eight measures that seem almost funky. Castiel joins in at the end of those two bars, bringing the music back to its slower pace. 

They started out by timing themselves from a metronome, but without drums, bass, or anything else to keep the time they need to be careful. Castiel takes over the melody completely, which he had been itching to do from the beginning with the violin. It took effort to make sure he stayed under the guitar sound until it was right for him to come out. He came out soaring. 

Everything in his mind and heart is clear and focused. It doesn’t matter where he’s playing, or who he’s playing with. He doesn’t even remember, right at this moment, that it’s Meg he’s playing with. The only thing that matters is the music, which is coming out beautiful and bittersweet, with moments of righteous anger. They keep going on and Castiel sinks into it completely. 

There are some things that can only be experienced in the moment because they take over every other thought or memory in the mind, and cut off everything that isn’t that moment. Sometimes these can be bad things, like a screaming fight or physical violence, but sometimes they can be beautiful. Like kissing Dean. Like music. 

They continue the music, varying from the original music drastically only to come right back to it, and away again. Castiel introduces a second melody from a similar song overtop, and Meg continues the old chords and patterns underneath it, and soon they’re playing with the two songs and how they interact. 

It’s so completely immersive that Castiel doesn’t realize that he’s closed his eyes until the very last note fades from the air. At nearly the same time he registers something else: clapping. He opens his eyes to see Professor Turner and a couple of their classmates watching them. Rufus leads the clapping, smiling and nodding like he just enjoyed a particularly good one of his own stories. Behind him one person claps enthusiastically, joyful to hear good music and happy for their peers’ talent, but a couple of the others can’t quite hide all the resentment. 

Both the the jealousy overcomes the joy in their faces as Rufus hands Meg a slip of paper, and then turns to Castiel to ask him to stay after class. 

It’s awkward, waiting as everyone else files out. Neither of them really feel up for acknowledging the other, so they just sit, a few seats away from each other, and wait as the other students leave. Rufus answers some student questions one-on-one as almost all the class shuffles out, and it feels like half an hour before everyone’s out and he finally gets to Meg and Castiel. 

“Two of you are some of my top students,” Rufus starts, “which is why I’m letting you know about this. There’s a scholarship for excellence in music coming up, named after some dead guy, I forget who, and I think the two of you might just have what it takes to get it. You need a teacher rec to apply, and I’d be happy to provide that. You also have to do a solo performance, and I expect both of you’ve already got pieces you know that will do.” 

“I’m sorry, Professor, but I-” Castiel begins. His parents, or at least Naomi, had been clear on financial aid: it wasn’t necessary, so he didn’t need any. Castiel would’ve been surprised at their decision to pass up prestige, except this was the same caveat given to Anna. It’s a method of control, thinly disguised. They weren’t even going to apply the rule to Castiel, until he told Naomi he planned to major in music. 

Unless he could be assured a full ride, it just isn’t worth risking his entire college tuition from his family. 

“First of all, Castiel, I’m not finished,” Rufus interrupts him. “Secondly, I told ya, it’s Rufus, I don’t hold with going by ‘professor’, in this room the important thing is musical skill, not authority level. Thirdly, just let me finish, will ya?” 

“Now,” Rufus pulls himself up to continue. “This is one prestigious scholarship, and if you do well you might just get a full ride scholarship. It’s not easy to get that much, and only a couple students a year do, but I believe both of you have a good chance. You’re some of the most skilled students I’ve seen in years, and I know you’ve been putting in the work. I’m even a nice enough guy to fill out the form for you, and I’ll help you schedule and practice for the solo, just let me know if you’re willing.”

“Well I’m sure as hell willing!” Meg says. “Unless you're about to announce some sudden, huge catch, that is.”

“Nah, no catch,” Rufus says. “This is just about the best deal you’ll ever get. How ‘bout you, Castiel?” 

“I-” Castiel begins. He stops, and asks, “Will my parents have to do any paperwork, sign off on this or anything?”

“No, for better or for worse this scholarship is merit-based and need-blind, so you won’t need any financial information from your parents,” Rufus explains. 

Cas considers. A full ride scholarship, and he’s eighteen now. Rufus will handle everything, his parents never have to know if he doesn’t get it, and if he does, then that’s alright, isn’t it? He’ll have back up. “Okay. I’m in.” 

There are a few more logistical things to clear up, and they stay there for the better part of forty minutes getting everything set up. Meg manages not to speak to him the entire time, and the longer the silence treatment goes, the more it irks him. 

He knows he deserves this. A twisted up part of him thinks this is the way it should be, and he has a hard time arguing with its logic. After all, he said what he was supposed to say, in many ways. No one in his church, no one besides Balthazar, perhaps, would disagree with the sentiment that homosexuals were disgusting. It was what he was supposed to say, what he was there to say, yet he feels terrible about it.

When they start packing up to leave, Castiel looks over at Meg. She’s still studiously ignoring him. He wishes that she weren’t, that she would look up and make a joke and the two of them could get some coffee before heading back to their respective housing. Except she wouldn’t. He knows she won’t, unless, maybe...

Castiel breathes in, deep as he can. He can do this. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. 

Meg pauses. She glances up at him, her face unreadable. 

“What’s that?” She asks. She sounds like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says. “I shouldn’t have said- said what I said. It was... hurtful, I know that, I’m sorry, I’m just a bit.” Castiel stops, and tries to even his breathing. “I’m a bit messed up about that kind of thing, you know, because-” He stops again. He doesn’t even know what to say there. Except he does know, he should say something about his family or something De- something about his own attractions. But he can’t. “I’m sorry.”

Castiel turns away, because he doesn’t want to see Meg’s reaction. He scrambles to shove everything in his backpack and get going, he doesn’t want to be here anymore. 

“Clarence, are you-” He hears Meg start to speak behind him, but he tries to ignore what she’s saying. He’s no longer sure that apologizing was a good idea at all, because now he’s not sure he could stand what Meg would say in response any more than he could stand her silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Cas apologizes. Not the best apology, but an apology nonetheless. 
> 
> Back then, cute library kissing! And discussions of morality. Why not?
> 
> (Okay, I just want to add in: you know that some random stranger has walked in on them at least once while innocently looking for books in the library. When this happened, said stranger just slowly backed away while muttering awkward apologies and excuses. Cas and Dean waited from them to exit and them burst into laughter.)


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean and Cas hung out together in the woods.
> 
> Now Castiel faces a phone call from his mother alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back, completely in schedule. Thanks for all your comments and encouragement!

##  Then

“It’s beautiful here,” Cas said. It was a short bus trip to the nature park just outside of town. Castiel was supposed to be doing homework right now, but he’d done all of his during and immediately after school on Friday. As long as he was back by five to practice his music no one would be suspicious. Three hours of a glorious Saturday afternoon were available to him and Dean until then. 

It was a lovely day to be out of the house. Ever since Lucifer had started fighting their mother again, over the salt, months ago now, it was like he wasn’t able to stop. A switch had been flipped and he no longer seemed to care about the financial support, his inheritance, or anything at all. He would get into screaming matches with their uncle, or their mother. He would get into actual fights at school, and he’d probably have been kicked out if their father wasn’t a primary donor with connections. He’d been arrested twice, on drug charges. Their family made them go away. Novaks weren’t arrested for drugs.

Lucifer actually seemed even more angry about that. It was like he was testing to see how loudly he could scream before their mother really started caring. 

It was a relief to hear the sound of the woods, and not the sound of his house. 

“Beautiful,” Dean echoed in agreement. Sam was off on a “wild adventure hike” program the park staff put on, and he and Cas had the rest of the woods all to themselves. It was big enough here that they didn’t have to worry about being seen. They’d wandered through the trees, and followed a shallow little creek down until it led them to a moor. They sat against a nearby tree, one of the larger ones, and were now watching the breeze flow through wild grass. All the colors seemed so bright in the sunlight, from the green of the trees to the yellow of the grass. It was only May, but summer seemed like it was on them already. 

Dean had his arm around Cas, who was leaning against him, head on his shoulder. Dean’s head was resting on Cas’s in return. Cas had a hand on Dean’s leg, and Dean could feel him absently tapping his fingers. 

“Do you think this is right, Dean?” Cas asked. 

“Which bit of it?” Dean asked in return. “If you’re talking about the ‘dating’ bit, then it certainly feels right.”

“‘Dating,’” Cas repeated. “I suppose that’s accurate. It does feel right.” He adjusted a bit, pulling himself up more, but only to snuggle further into Dean. “I do feel rather guilty, though.”

“Why?” Dean asked. “Sam’s taken care of, probably having the time of his life collecting frogs or whatever, your family’s not gonna be worried about you yet, and, honestly, I’m pretty damn happy. We’re not hurting anyone.”

Cas smiled. He turned his head to press a small kiss to the side of Dean’s neck. He turned away before he started to speak again.

“It’s that I feel guilty, sometimes, that I get to escape. Someone broke Lucifer’s nose after he got arrested, again, and I don’t know if it was his friends or our uncle,”  Cas said. “There isn’t a peaceful moment. Anna’s been playing her music louder and Gabriel has started spending more and more time outside the house as well and- I don’t know. It just feels wrong, that I should be here, where it’s so peaceful, while at home everything’s just-”

“Going to hell?” Dean suggested. “Just because shit sucks doesn’t mean you deserve to deal with it. Just lay here,” Dean turns to press his face into the top of Cas’s head, “with me.”

“School’s practically over,” Cas said in response. He certainly didn’t make any more to get up. “There’ll be more time to spend together during the summer.”  _ And more time at my house,  _ he added in his head. 

“I don’t like to think too much about it,” Dean said. He sighed, and pulled his face up again to look out to the sky, which always reminded him of Cas’s eyes when it was blue. They weren’t the same shade of blue, the sky tended to be several shades lighter, but they were both clear and deep. Right now the sun was high and there were barely any clouds, Dean was happy to be sitting in the shade of the trees. 

“Why?” Cas asked. 

“Because, you know,” Dean said, struggling to say it. He shrugged, which made Cas have to move his head. “You know, I’m gonna leave. Not now, maybe not this summer, but, well, we never stay anywhere for more than a year. A year is coming up this summer.”

Cas pulled his head up fully at this information. He stared at Dean, concerned, and Dean looked back at him. 

“I thought your father said that you would be staying here longer than usual?” Cas said, turning the statement to a question. 

“Yeah, but...” Dean trailed. “He never said how much longer.” 

Cas leaned back into the tree and closed his eyes. 

“We wouldn’t really have a future, anyway, not together,” Dean continued. “We always knew there’d be an expiration date.”

“Sometimes I have no idea what the future will be like,” Cas said. He opened his eyes again. “I know things can’t stay the way they are, everything’s too unstable, but I can’t imagine it changing.”

“You think you can’t imagine the future?” Dean asked. He shook his head. “I still have no fucking clue what I’m gonna do after high school. Get a job, I guess.”

“You could get a scholarship,” Cas said, “or at least go to a community college.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, “Ellen’s mentioned that there’s some good work-study programs, but I don’t know. Sam’s the one who's going to go to school, become something great, do all that change-the-world type shit. I just thought I’d be the one supporting him.”

“Sam,” Cas said, “is a smart, wonderful kid, but you are more than his back-up. Go to college, or don’t, it’ll just- it will bring opportunity, Dean. And you deserve opportunity, just as much as Sam does.”

“Yeah,” Dean said. He wasn’t really agreeing, he just didn’t want to hear any more about it. Cas knew that, and was willing to respect it. They were silent for several moments before Cas felt the need to speak. 

“I hope you don’t leave soon, Dean,” Cas said. 

“Me, either, Cas,” Dean responded. 

“But I also know we’re not doing this for the future,” Cas continued. “We’re doing it now, because it means something right now.”

“God, you just like to go right on out and say shit,” Dean said. “You are one blunt dude sometimes.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Cas said. 

“Nah,” Dean shook his head. “It’s one of your charms, Cas. One of your weird-ass charms. Sam’s always been better at that than me, that living in the moment crap, just like everything else. He throws himself in, wherever we go, doing activities and joining clubs and making friends. I haven’t done any of that for a while, to be honest. Someone’s gotta deal with the fits Sam throws whenever we move again, and I can’t exactly do that if I’m throwing one myself. But this time...”

“This time?” Cas prompted. 

“This time I guess there’s something worth throwing myself into,” Dean said. He immediately made a face. “Your sappiness is catching, Cas. My manliness will be gone before the end of the summer.”

“Hmm, yes, I suck it out through our kisses, actually,” Cas said, not an ounce of humor in his tone. Dean burst out laughing, he couldn’t help it. He actually doubled over with laughter, he couldn’t seem to stop. Cas had to pull back and watch him, bemused and satisfied. 

“God, Cas,” Dean said when he managed to get his breath again. He leaned back, this time grabbing Cas’s hand. “Never change.”

“Too late,” Cas said, “but it’s alright.” He leaned forward and kissed Dean, slow and easy. “You know there’s a pond, here, right? We could always go skinny dipping.”

This had Dean laughing again. Cas watched him laugh, smiling himself, and feeling as light as the breeze that danced through the grass. He pushed the end out of his mind, for now. He could just have this. 

* * *

 

##  Now

The call comes on Monday at 10 AM precisely, as it always does. Castiel is laying down on his bed, staring at the way the light hits the sheets next to him. It’s soft and blue and he feels no need to get up or attempt to do anything at all. He’s as close to napping as anyone awake can be. He doesn’t even have the energy for the things he knows he needs to do, like practice or homework. He just listens to the sounds of cars as they pass by, which a sound so much closer and crisper than usual due to the open window, and stares at his bed. The open window makes the room cold, but the sensation doesn’t bother him at the moment. It’s just an observation. 

His room is cold. His room is clean. His room is empty, and he is totally alone. Just observations, for now none of them can touch him. 

He got a couple new messages from Meg, but he didn’t answer them, and she hasn’t sent any more than the first few.

He picks his phone up at the second ring. He knows who it is, he has a specific ringtone for his mother as a warning. It’s almost a relief to hear it, this time, despite how much he hates to speak to her. At least it’s not Anna calling him again. She’s sent him a number of texts since he spoke with Gabriel, and he hasn’t looked at any of them. 

Castiel flips open his phone and speaks: “Hello, mother.”

“Castiel.” She answers. “You’ve had quite a week. I was worried about you, when Uriel told me about the accident.”

“It’s alright,” Castiel says. “I’m fine.”

“You should still be more careful,” she says. “You’ve always been so distant, Castiel, an accident like this was bound to happen. Pay more attention.”

“I know,” Castiel says. He’s heard it before. “I will.” He has no intention to change any of his behavior. 

“I also got an email from Uriel,” Naomi continues. “He says you’re planning on applying for a prestigious scholarship.” Castiel’s blood ran cold. He didn’t think Uriel knew enough to alert his mother to something like that, if he had then he would have lied to him about what he was working on. He held his breath as his mother continued. “It’s quite an accomplishment.”

“Thank you.” The only safe thing he could think to say. 

“But there was a reason we didn’t have you apply for scholarships when you applied. They’re unnecessary,” Naomi says. “We can afford the school, we don’t need assistance. Not to mention that it’s cutting financial ties with the family, and giving them to the school. You don’t need to cut financial ties just yet, Castiel.”

“Does that mean- should I not accept the award, then?” Castiel asks. He knows that “just yet” really means “ever”. He’s not sure how his family will find a place in the company to employ a musician full time, but he is sure there’ll be a job lined up for him as soon as he graduates. Probably before. It occurs to him that they might not find a spot for a musician, that they might just try to rope him into something else. He frowns and pushes the thought away.

“It is prestigious,” Naomi admits, “but you know how cutting ties goes. You’ve already cut physical ties, you no longer live near us, and if you cut financial ties then it could be a slippery slope. You may forget how much your family has given you.”

“Have I ever forgotten?” Castiel asks. It doesn’t really count as a lie, not when it’s a question. It just makes him tired and numb to say it. 

“Sometimes it feels like you have, Castiel, when you spend so much time locked up in your room avoiding us all,” Naomi says. “But you’ve done so much right. I wouldn’t want you to lose all that now.”

_ You’ve done so much right.  _ Castiel has the sudden urge to laugh, and he has to hold it in. It’s not a happy urge, but a bitter one. She would turn on him so quickly if she knew everything. He shakes his head, trying to clear it. The past few days, maybe even the past few weeks, seem like they’ve knocked something loose.

“Thank you,” he manages. There’s more silence as he gathers his courage. “I don’t think taking the scholarship would make me lose anything.”

“Oh, Castiel, you know how many ways you can be lost. Look at your brothers. I tried the best I could, but still, still,” Castiel can picture her shaking her head as she speaks, “we lost them.” Pause. “I just don’t want that to happen to you.”

A part of Castiel thinks that it might just be too late to keep him. He’s felt different since fighting Alastair and yelling at Gabriel. It’s been harder than ever to care about his roommates and his appearances. He tries to think of what to say, of something he’d be willing to say. He knows he’s been silent for too long, but his mother should be used to the long pauses inherent in their conversations. 

He wants to say, “It won’t,” but he’s so tired of lying. He knows that part of the reason he wants this scholarship is just in case. The events of the past week have only made him more aware of how tenuous his position is, how reliant he is on his family’s money. 

“I’m trying,” he says. It seemed like the best thing to say. 

“I know you’re not like them,” she reassures him, “but why ask for this scholarship, if you’re not like them? Why look for a way out of this family? It just doesn’t seem right.”

“I’m not,” he says. “I didn’t ask, either.” The scholarship was offered to him, he wasn’t looking for it. Even if he was, it’s not because he wants to leave. He knows his mother’s opinion of him, and he just wants to be ready for that. That’s not the same as wanting to leave, right? “I just- I don’t want to be a burden.”

“If you don’t want to be a burden, then why are you majoring in music?” His mother asks. “Why not major in something more helpful? I have some suggestions, if that’s what you want. You could be a real asset, Castiel. You won’t even have to give up music, God wouldn’t want you to waste your talents anyway. It’s just not exactly the most practical choice for us.”

“I can just take the scholarship,” Castiel says. He wants to hang up. Even the silence is different when he’s on the phone with his mother, it’s harder to breathe through, and having to actually hear what she’s saying is actually choking. 

“Castiel, are you contradicting me?” Naomi asks. There’s warning in her tone. Castiel has to remind himself that he no longer lives with her, that she can’t throw him out or lock him in his room or smack him. She’s not here. 

“I just- I mean, you hadn’t said ‘no’ to the scholarship,” Castiel says. “You said it was prestigious. It could reflect well on the family.”  _ You could brag about it. _

“Hmm,” she considers. “I hadn’t told many of the family friends that you were majoring in music, actually. It may be awkward to bring up now.” 

“I could minor in business,” he blurts out, a little desperately. He doesn’t have many bargaining chips. “And religious studies. I’m taking a religious studies course, right now, anyway.”

“Could you?” Naomi asks. “That sounds wonderful. Not quite what I was picturing for you, but it could set a good basis for your future. It could be right for you.” She sighs. “I suppose it would be nice for your tuition to be paid for. Less strain on us. You’re worth all the strain, of course, I’m sure you’ll give back everything we’ve given for you.”

“I’m just starting on that,” Castiel points out, “with the scholarship.”

“Well,” Naomi says. She laughs lightly. “That doesn’t exactly help us, but I appreciate the thought.”

“Thank you,” Castiel says. He’s not sure exactly what he’s thanking her for, but he knows it’s what she expects. 

“I won’t delay you from your studies any longer, then,” Naomi says. “Everything is well here. MIchael is away negotiating an excellent business opportunity in California.”

“The house must be quite lonely,” Castiel notes. He knows without saying that his father is away. 

“At least when you were here there was music sometimes,” Naomii says. “I didn’t realize I’d miss that. Send my greetings to your sister.”

“I will,” Castiel assures her. He nods, even though he knows she can’t see him. “Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Castiel,” his mother says. “I love you.” She hangs up. Castiel turns off his phone, and slides out of bed. He heads over to his computer, he needs to email Professor Turner about the award. 

He should probably feel more emotion than he does. His mother missing him should make him feel warm, not conflicted. He should feel happy about this award, and all the validation and security it gives him, but he just feels alone. His room is tiny and empty, and he knows if he were to go to the common room to hang out with Uriel, Alastair, and the rest it would be even worse. 

He closes his laptop after he finishes the email. He turns around and stares at his guitar in its case. Playing will make him feel better, and he knows that, but moving just seems so hard right now. He wishes, suddenly, that Dean were here. 

Dean always made him feel something, he could never be numb and heavy around Dean. If he was, then Dean would hold him, at least, and stop him from being lonely. Dean would slowly turn it all into warmth and comfort and eventually Cas could start crying and talking and it would be better. 

But Dean isn’t here. He has Dean’s number, but he doesn’t fool himself into thinking Dean could be only one call away. Dean is months away, years away. So Castiel sits there until he has the energy to move. 

He plays his guitar until his fingers start hurting, and then he switches to the violin. He plays until midnight and decides to do the homework for his other classes tomorrow. He needs to sleep. 

After he crawls into bed he reaches out to plug in his phone to charge. He flips it up and stares at it for a moment, the soft glow of it’s screen over his sheets. The heating system makes a hum in the air. His sheets are clean, which is the type of simple pleasure that he doesn’t have it in him to appreciate right now. His bed is cold without anyone else in it, though he tells himself it’s just the crappy heating in the house. 

He clicks on the contact he made for Dean. He’s changed his number since Dean moved away, Dean doesn’t need to know who he is. 

In the morning he will blame his sleep deprivation, but he decides to send a text. It’s the first one he’s sent for a couple of weeks, it’s not like there are many people for him to message. 

_ Goodnight, Dean.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Then sections will having much more kissing and talk of kissing for a bit. :) When this scene was just a vague idea in my head it might have involved skinny dipping but that didn't pan out. 
> 
> Meanwhile, in the Now sections, Cas will be doing important shit.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean and Cas got one summer together.
> 
> Now Dean messages his mystery texter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm back at school updates should be on-time, because being at school means I will have a concept of time and know what day it is again.

## Then

The summer before they turned sixteen was perfect.

. . .

Some nights when John was home he’d let Dean drive the Impala. He said he would need to learn anyway, and he took Sam and Cas as far out of town as he felt like they could safely go. So here they were, all sitting on the hood of the car, looking up across the night sky.

“How are you supposed to wish on them?” Cas asked. Dean looked to his left to see the way Cas stared at the stars. He wasn’t disappointed. Cas’s hair shined in the moonlight, and Dean had to resist the urge to reach for it. The angle of his head put his neck on full display, and Dean was only distracted from that when Cas finally turned to look over at him. Dean was familiar enough with his face to trace the lines of it through the darkness, and out of the suggestions of his features Cas’s blue eyes seemed almost to glow. The faint light of the radio from inside the car reflected off his pupils, which were wide at the dark and at the awesome beauty of the stars. Dean had to catch his breath as Cas continued his question. “Is it like praying?”

“Sorta,” Sam answered. “You just choose a star and make a wish. You’re supposed to wait for a shooting star, and not tell anyone your wish, but me and Dean used to just pick a star and wish on it right out loud.”

“It was Mom’s idea,” Dean said. He glanced back over at his little brother, to see how he took the mention of their dead mother. He gave Sam a little nudge of affection. “She used to say if you could find the same star again, your wish would come true.” Sam glanced back at him with a smile, a sadder one then his usual puppy-dog grin, but real as anything.

“I wish,” Cas said from Dean’s other side, “that this summer will last forever.” Dean moved forward his hand, slipping it across the black metal of the car until his fingers met with Cas’s. Cas looked over at him as Dean gave his hand a squeeze. Dean’s smile looked different in the dark, soft as it ever was. It was the smile Dean kept only for him.

“Me too,” Dean agreed. “Pick a good star for that one, Cas, make it true.”

. . .

Sam would bring home his books from the library’s summer reading suggestions and try to sum them all up to Cas as best an 11-year-old could. Cas would sit on the bed and let him, mostly just listening, occasionally asking questions.

If Sam really loved a book Cas would let Sam show it to him. He’d take it home and promise to read it, and within a week he always would. Sometimes, if Sam and Cas got into really heated arguments or conversations about the book. Dean would just sit in the corner and slowly work his way through “Cat’s Cradle”.

Even though he never read any of the books they did, Dean loved to watch them talk about it. Sam would get as animated as ever, and use his hands so much while he talked that once he managed to knock over a water glass. Cas would stare and nod more than talk, but his face was as scrunched and intense as ever. Sometimes he’d notice when Dean was watching them, and he’d give him a little smile.

Dean loved to watch them talk about it and think about how much he loved them both.

. . .

Sometimes, when they needed to get away from Sam, they’d hang out in Cas’s room. They’d talk quiet and Dean would hide under the bed if any footsteps came too close. They didn’t do it too often, but when they did, they’d leave the window up and let the warmth and light flood in.

Dean would lie on Cas’s bed and Cas would play music for him. He’d sing softly sometimes, singing known song lyrics or just making them up. Whenever Cas grew tired of this he’d lay on the bed with Dean, and they’d curl up together. It was hard to stay alert and not let the summer heat and the lazy afternoon lighting not lure them to sleep.

They didn’t do it too often, but still it was a miracle they didn’t get caught.

Cas knew it was possible that they would get caught intellectually, but some part of his heart had finally discovered the invulnerable faith of youth and it just seemed impossible.

. . .

Dean saw a poster for a little amusement park on the pier of a nearby lake, just a forty minute drive away. Cas let Gabriel convince him that he could cover for him for a day, and Dean convinced his father to drive them there while Sam did yet another sleepover weekend at the library.

That one day was different. They started out the day as usual after John dropped them off, walking close but never holding hands, sneaking off to secluded corners to share even the most chaste of kisses. It was halfway through the day when things changed.

“You know, there’s no one here that I would know,” Cas said thoughtfully, as they waited in line for the one little roller coaster the park had. “No one from my church would dare be seen here, and no one from my school would go somewhere this cheap.”

“Cheap!?” Dean said. “This place is a total ripoff!”

“It would be cheap to them,” Cas said. He eyed the roller coaster again, undisturbed by Dean’s righteous indignation at the lack of recognition for how expensive the park was. He’d never been on a roller coaster before, and a bit of anxiety made him pinch the corners of his mouth to match his pinched stomach. He figured it would be nothing, though, compared to kissing a boy.

“Well, I’m sorry Cas, but your school buddies are rich douchebags, I mean, some of them might be nice but no way any of them live in the real world-”

“I think you’re missing the point,” Cas interrupted. “No one we know is here.”

“And?” Dean asked. Cas grabbed his hand and threaded their fingers together.

“No one here can hurt us,” Cas said. “Or, they could, but at least they couldn’t tell our families about us. We can- we don’t have to hide, for a day.”

Dean stared at their hands, threaded together. “Oh. Yeah. I guess.” He cleared his throat. He looked up and saw the line move behind Cas. “Come on!” He dragged Cas forward, not letting go of his hand.

They still didn’t kiss out in the open, that would expose them far too much. But for the rest of the day they held hands, walked a little closer, and were that much more free with their touches. It’s possible no one would know the difference, unless they looked close.

They knew, though. That evening, after a mini fireworks display over the lake, John let them keep the windows down on the drive back to Dean’s place. The summer wind was cool and exhilarating. After they’d driven back to the motel, Dean walked Cas home and they went over the events of the day together. Both ended the night with only with light sunburns, memories, and a strip of photobooth photos of them together.

It’s one of the few photos they ever got from that summer.

. . .

They saw the newest Marvel movie in theaters, along with Sam and Jo. Cas “accidentally” put his hand on Dean’s for a moment or two, but even in the dark that was as fair as he’d risk. Dean let him do it, heart missing a beat at Cas’s touch despite the weeks they’d been together, and didn’t protest when Cas removed it. He knew not to push.

Besides, the movie was entertaining enough to be distracting. When they left the theater Sam couldn’t stop talking about it, and with enough volume to get a few glares from the crabbier old nerds in the audience. Dean glared right back, though Sam didn’t seem to notice. Couldn’t they let the kid be a kid?

Ellen was the one who picked them up, and Sam and Dean stayed over at Jo’s house that night. Cas couldn’t, of course, he never could, but that was alright. He felt lucky enough that Ellen didn’t press the issue of his family, he’s not sure he would be willing to take her hospitality even if he could.

Ellen didn’t press it when they had her park down the block from Castiel’s house, but the carefully unreadable expression on her face showed the way she drew her own conclusions. As long as she didn’t call his family, Cas didn’t think he needed to know whether those conclusions were true or not.

Dean walked him right up to his house. He kissed Cas goodnight, chaste as a true gentleman despite the desperate makeouts the two had shared earlier that week. Dean whispered in his ear how he wished they could see a movie as just the two of them.

That was the only movie they saw in theaters that summer, but it certainly wasn’t the only movie night they shared. Most were open sleepovers at the motel or Ellen’s place behind her bar, and those were the stupid loud fun of teenage friendship, but a couple of them were indeed movie nights with just Dean and Cas. Those were quieter, overall, but the movies they watched were abandoned even more frequently than those of the group movie nights.

. . .

It still ended, of course. All summers end.

Somehow, despite lasting an eternity, Dean and Cas both found that the end of summer came quick and sudden as a heartbeat.

* * *

## Now

Dean wishes Benny would just ask Victor out already, so he doesn't have to keep hanging around the floor’s common space like a fruit fly in a kitchen.

Dean’s hanging out with Benny in the community room, for emotional support in his attempts to start outright wooing Victor. Benny’s made it clear that he plans to ask Victor out, but his plans appear to be stalling as Benny just sits awkwardly next to him. It’s pretty obvious they like each other- they’re sitting close enough to touch and each one keeps giving the other sidelong glances. Dean wishes they’d just get on with it already.

“What’s so confusing ‘bout your phone there, Dean?” Victor asks him.

Honestly Victor’s question is probably more to break the palpable silence of Benny’s inability to speak then to actually hear why Dean is frowning at his phone.

“I got a text,” Dean answers, “definitely to me, but I’ve got no fucking clue who it’s from.”

“Really?” Benny says. “Is it someone hitting on you? ‘Cause if it’s some one-night stand or someone you ran into drunk, then I’m not gonna be all that surprised. You hand out your number pretty easy when you're drunk, and you’re drunk more’n every weekend.”

“I mean, maybe,” Dean says, “but it’s a pretty weird text to send a potential hook-up.”

“What’s it say?” Victor asks. “How creepy is it?”

“What makes you think it’s creepy?” Dean asks right back.

“Text to you from a completely unknown number?” Victor says. “Probably benign, like some one-night-stand like Benny said, but still definitely a bit creepy.”

“It just says ‘Goodnight’,” Dean says.

“Well, then how don’t you know it’s a wrong number?” Benny asks.

“Because it says ‘Goodnight, Dean’,” Dean informs them.

Benny leans back, leaning in a bit closer to Victor this time. Dean would give him a thumbs up and a wink for the move, except that might be a bit obvious.

“You could text them back,” Victor suggests.

“Why the fuck would I do that?” Dean asks.

“Because it’s the only thing to do,” Victor points out. “You can either text the number back or ignore it, unless you want to try to call the police about one text. You can google the number beforehand, if you want, but I’m pretty sure that’ll only be helpful if it’s a business with its number online.”  
“You know, that’s pretty smart,” Benny says, giving Victor a smirking little smile. Dean ignores that.

“Guess so,” Dean agrees. He starts typing.

“What ya sending?” Benny asks.

“‘New phone who dis’,” Dean says. Dean is glad to see both Benny and Victor bust out laughing at that. Dean nods with satisfaction to see they understand the reference.

“Seriously, Brother?” Benny asks. “A meme? Not exactly who I’d send to my mystery phone lover.”

“Who the fuck said this person is my lover?” Dean retorts.

“It is you, so statistically speaking, this is probably some girl you’ve had sex with,” Victor taunts. He smiles as he says it, though, and the words have no malice behind them.  “Though, I gotta ask Benny, what would you send to your mystery phone lover?”

“Well.” Benny’s smile grows as Victor keeps looking at him. “You know. The flirtations of a Southern gentleman.”

“Really?” Victor asks. “What would that be?”

Dean decides that Benny’s probably doing well enough to no longer need emotional support or a wingman. Seeing the way those two look at each other, Dean decides he definitely wants to go now. It’s not that he has anything against budding gay romances, it’s that they’re just a lot more fun to take part in than to watch awkwardly while single.

“You know, I just remembered,” Dean says, “I just have a bunch of homework. I should probably go do that.” Benny waves him away. Before he leaves, right at the doorway, Dean pauses. Why? Because he always has and always will be a little shit to his friends.

“You two lovebirds have fun!” He calls back behind him right before exiting. He’s rewarded with the strangled noise Benny makes.

Out in the hallway Dean’s phone vibrates, and he checks it out as he sets himself up back in his room. Mystery texter has responded to Dean’s meme-speak.

 _Congratulations on your new phone!_ Mystery texter replies, apparently completely oblivious to the joke.

 _Yeah but who r u?_ Dean texts back. He sits himself in bed and narrows his eyes at his phone. How many girls has he interacted with in the past couple of weeks? Maybe there’s a way to narrow it down, as long as Dean doesn’t mind being rude, which he doesn’t. Not to some phoney phone, anyway. _Did i sleep w/ u?_

It takes several minutes for whoever’s on the other side to respond, Dean gets through all his new messages from Sam, Bobby, and Jo by the time he gets a response.

 _I mean,_ Mystery texter responds with a single text at first.

_Yes._

Dean processes this information with a nod. _U wanna sleep w/ me again?_ He sends back. Then he reads over what he just sent and smacks his own forehead with an open palm.

 _I mean is that why ur texting,_ he clarifies.

 _No. I hope you don’t mind._ Mystery texter sends this back immediately. _I’m just tired of feeling alone._

Dean closes his eyes and sits back in his bed. He hears the faint sound of loud laughter down the hall, Victor and Benny getting along together in a way he hasn’t gotten along with anyone in awhile. One night stands are nice, fun as hell definitely, but it’s just not the same. It doesn't mean that Dean’s changed his mind on romantic relationships, but he can definitely admit that it’s not the same kind of connection.

None of his feelings are helped by the way Myster Texter’s typing matched Cas’s when he first started texting Dean. The reminder only amplifies the ache.  

 _Me 2 friend,_ he texts back. _Me too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will, as you might have already guessed, end up being over 100k.
> 
> I had so much fun writing the "Then" section of this chapter. :)


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Gabriel spoke to Cas about their family slowly falling apart.
> 
> Now Castiel can barely sit through lunch with his sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still Thursday in my time zone. Counts as on time.

## Then

Gabriel nearly gave him a heart attack swinging open the door. Castiel physically jumped, fumbling with his violin and breaking a string. It made a BOING noise as it snapped back, which Castiel thought was really too cheerful a noise for breaking. He looked at the violin sadly and ignored Gabriel’s attempts to get his attention. 

“Oh, come on, I’m sorry about the violin but I know you have like three extra strings around here somewhere,” Gabriel said. 

“Five, actually, but that doesn’t mean you can just break into my bedroom,” Castiel corrected him. He set his violin on the table and started getting out an extra string to restring it. “What is it, Gabe?”

“I just thought it might be good to talk,” Gabriel said. He stepped in and closed the door behind him. “Me and Anna have been talking, and I don’t think you should be left out.”

Castiel paused, and looked over at Gabriel. “What have you been talking about?”

“About how everything’s just-” Gabriel made a vague motion with his hand. “Slowly degrading. Lucifer and mom and Uncle Zach- it’s all staying the same but getting…”

“More tense,” Castiel supplied. “Louder.”

“Harder,” Gabriel finished. “Things just suck right now, and it’ll probably get worse. You know we’ll all have to deal with the fallout.” 

“Yeah,” Castiel said. He didn’t look at Gabriel. He’d managed to restring the violin at this point, and was putting it back in its case. “I know.” He wished that he could text Dean, they’d started texting and then deleting their texts to each other. At least Cas was deleting his texts, he supposed it didn’t really matter as much if Dean did or not. But Gabriel was still here.

“Me and Anna have decided that we all gotta be there for each other, us siblings,” Gabriel said. “We don’t have much choice but to just deal, at least until we’re old enough to go to college, and I know that’s farthest for you most of all.”

“We’re fairly close in age, though,” Castiel pointed out. This path of thought, thinking about the future in general, was always uncomfortable. Things were alright, even happy for Castiel because he had Dean, and the future just about the opposite of the promise of continuing happiness. Castiel supposed that in or after college he could get happiness back again, btu that was so far away that it was hard to imagine. 

“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “Not saying that’s not true, just saying, you know, we’re there for you. Would be nice for you to be here for us too, sometimes, but-”

Castiel winced. “I’m sorry, I know, I haven’t really been here,” Castiel apologized. If he were being honest he would say  _ ever _ but he settled for, “recently. I-”

“Hey, Cassie, it’s okay!” Gabriel said. “You don’t have to justify it! There’s never really much you can do, and I know how hard it is. Dude, I’m happy that you’ve gotten new friends recently- though I gotta say I think sometimes you should be a bit more careful about hanging out with them. Anyway, that’s not that point, you deserve some friends and some happiness! Me and Anna got lucky with getting into groups of friends, it’s not like I’ve never been an asshole about leaving you behind.” 

“I’d like to contradict you,” Castiel said, “about you being an asshole, but…”

Gabriel laughed, he actually seemed to be started. 

“Did you actually just swear?” Gabriel asked. “Man, they grow up so fast. My little brother, swearing like a sailor…”

“It was hardly swearing like a sailor,” Castiel argued. “I was just repeating what you said.” 

Gabriel smiled and put his hands up to concede Castiel’s point. 

“Hey, I’m not being critical,” Gabriel said. There was a noise downstairs, a thump. Both of them looked toward the closed door of Castiel’s room. Gabriel’s smile disappeared, and he turned back to his brother.

“I guess what I’ve just been trying to say this whole time,” Gabriel started, “is that some hard times are probably coming up, as always, but we’ll still be together and we can always rely on each other, us siblings. You, and me, and Anna, and even Michael and Lucifer, too. It’ll turn out alright.” 

Castiel nodded, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet Gabriel’s eyes. As Gabriel turned to leave, though, Castiel spoke up. 

“Hey,” he said. Gabriel looked back at him. “I really appreciate, you know, your reassurance. You don’t have to be perfect all the time. You’re my brother, I’m going to love you no matter what.” 

Gabriel smiled. “Same to you, Cassie. Awkward sibling hug?” 

“Sure,” Castiel laughed. He let Gabriel pull him in for a quick squeeze, as comforting and awkward as all sibling hugs were, and then let him go. Gabriel left with a wave, and Castiel decided to pick up his phone. 

_ My family’s going to hell _ , he texted to Dean,  _ but I love my siblings. _

_ that i totally understand,  _ Dean texted back. 

* * *

## Now

“I’m sorry for not telling you,” Anna tells him, “but I know you understand why. You would’ve made the same choice I did if you had the same info.” She’s never really been one for small talk, not when there’s pressing Big Talk to be had.

She sits across from him, leaning forward a bit to rest both arms on the table. The waiter hasn’t taken their order yet, giving Castiel an excuse to lean back and scan the crowds around them for a waiter instead of meeting her eyes. He wishes that this lunch was over already or that, better yet, he never agreed to meet her in the first place. He has no idea what to say. They’re meeting for lunch at a corner burger place. No two booths in the joint are completely matched, the lights are too white to be comforting, and the faint radio in the background in too country.

Castiel is aware of how his mood is making him feel that everything is irritating, and he tries to calm down.

Maybe, if he were in her shoes, he would’ve made the same decision and left her in the dark. It’s possible, but knowing this doesn’t make him feel any better. His anger wasn’t really all that rational to begin with, it just was.

So he stays quiet, and waits for her to say more.

“Look,” she sighs and takes a deep breath, “be mad at me if you want to, I was the one who decided not to tell you and told Gabe to do the same. You should talk to him, though. You two used to have one of the best sibling relationships in our family.” Castiel gives up his search for the waiter and stares at a spot on the table directly in front of him. “Not that that’s saying much for our family, but you guys were good friends. You know where he is now, you don’t need to shut him out.”

“My reasons for being angry at you are independant from and irrelevant to my reasons for being angry at Gabriel,” Castiel informs her.

“Why be so angry at us?” Anna asks him. “It’s not like we’re the only people in the family to keep secrets, and if not for our mother’s insane control needs we wouldn’t even need to keep secrets.”

“I know other people in the family kept secrets, I never trusted them like you and Gabriel.”

“You haven’t trusted me in years, though, really,” Anna points out. Castiel shrugs. He knows it doesn’t make any sense to be mad at her for keeping secrets, especially considering the ones he himself keeps. Except that there would be no real reason she would need to know about Dean, anyway, and Gabriel was his brother. Is his brother.

“Are you telling me you really don’t understand why I might not want to risk telling you about our night-club owning runaway brother? Can you not imagine how fast our parents would disown me if they knew I was speaking to him?” Anna asks. They’re not actually questions, and Castiel already knows the answers to them.

“Do you really think I’m just some rule following robot?” Castiel asks in response. He finally looks up and meets her eyes, which are clear and determined. He wishes his eyes could mirror that. “Just a Michael-to-be?”

“No,” Anna says, just a little too quickly for Castiel’s tastes. “Where did you hear that?”  
“Gabriel told me what you think of me now,” Castiel says.

“Gabe said I think you’re a rule following robot?” Anna clarifies.

“Basically,” Castiel says. At this point he’s staring at Anna, watching her like his eyes can take the truth from her and make it what he wants. The only problem with that, other than his lack of psychic powers, is that he doesn’t know what he wants the truth to be. After all, hadn’t he been aiming to turn out like Michael? Obedient and faithful, and just a little bit more quiet?

Their conversation is interrupted by the arrival of the waitress. Castiel orders the blandest thing he can find on the menu, rich foods having absolutely no appeal to him right now. He watches Anna while she orders but doesn’t really listen to what she’s ordering. He’s just looking at how his sister has changed.

He has to admit she looks better than she ever did living with their family- healthier and lighter, and looking more happy than worried. She’s dressed casually, blue jeans and a t-shirt, and her bright red hair is down around her shoulders rather than tied up the way it always was in high school. Her bag has characters from some cartoon Castiel doesn’t recognize on it, probably from something not Christian enough for their parents. Castiel feels a stab of envy at the way she’s so easily left behind the exacting morality they grew up with. When he recognizes that it’s envy twisting his gut, he looks right down at his hands.

He shouldn’t feel envious. He shouldn’t want to leave behind his family’s values at all, and if his sister has found happiness leaving them he should either condemn her or let it slide and be glad that she’s doing well. What point does envy serve?

“It’s not that I thought you were like Michael,” Anna explains after their waitress leaves.

“No, it’s that you thought I was some pre-programmed machine,” Castiel interrupts.

“Just listen, okay?” Anna says. “We all reacted differently to Lucifer’s overdose- Gabriel ran away and I started my own sorta sad and embarrassing attempts at rebellion and Michael just became more Michael. And you just, you shut down, Castiel. I’m not calling you a machine or anything, I mean you disconnected from the world. You did whatever mom and Uncle Zach said. Sometimes I’d think you walked off a cliff if they asked you to, and you didn’t seem to be getting better.”

“That’s not true,” Castiel says. It has a basic truth to it, what she says, but he still feels obligated to argue. “I’m majoring in music, aren’t I?”  
“Only because they hadn’t told you what to major in, right?”

“I think they assumed I’d major in religious studies,” Castiel says. “I never lied to them or anything, but I did very clearly inform them of my real major after I started here.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t going to last, was it?” Anna asks. “That’s what mom told me. That it was just a college phase- she didn’t even seem concerned.”  
“You’ll believe mother over me, but I’m the programmed one?” Castiel asks.

“I didn’t believe her _over_ you, she was just the one who told me about it,” Anna says. “You never told me what your major was at all. _Are_ you still majoring in music?”

“Yes.”

“Well, then, I’m sorry,’ Anna apologizes, “but there’s no way for me to know these things if you don’t tell me.”

Castiel stays quiet. He’s looking down at the table again. The only thing for him to say would be an apology, and for some reason he’s reluctant to apologize right now. It’s an intense sort of reluctance, like a physical feeling in his gut. He knows that the reason Anna assumes things about him is because he never tells her anything. She knew even less about his meetups with Dean than Gabriel did, and she certainly knows nothing of his life now; she had to work with the context she was given to understand his behavior. Really he should apologize for being angry at her about it, except he can’t. Luckily the food comes around that time, breaking the awkward silence in its own way.

“Are you doing well?” Anna asks.

Castiel thinks about his recent call with his mother, of Dean’s irritated glare and unfortunately beautiful green eyes in his English class, of the texts on his phone and the way Alastair looked at him, a look of hateful contempt burned into his mind. Is this what “well” looks like?

“I guess,” he answers. “I recently got a music scholarship.”

“Wow,” Anna glances up at him from her food. “Mom let you apply to a scholarship? I didn’t know she'd be willing to loosen her financial leash on us like that.”

“A professor put my name in. Did mother’s orders really stop you from applying for aid?” Castiel asks.

“No,” Anna says. “I was 18, I could apply to some without letting her know. It just didn’t matter- I didn’t get enough money to pay full tuition, and it’s all or nothing support from our family, isn’t it?”

“I suppose,” Castiel agrees. It’s always easier to just agree. Castiel sets down his fork and pushes his plate away. “I’m not hungry.”

“Want to take it to go?” Anna asks.

“No,” Castiel answers, “I don’t.” There’s an awkward pause. Castiel knows he isn’t doing very well at reconnecting with his sister, but he still isn’t sure if he wants to reconnect. Reconnecting with her just means lying more or telling her everything, and he doesn’t want to do either.

Sitting in the silence of their table, staring at his mostly uneaten food. Castiel sits there, staring at his uneaten, unappetizing food, and listens to the sound of eating, conversation, and the quiet country radio station around them. He sits there, fidgeting in his seat and tapping his fingers on his chair, until he can’t stand to sit any further. The noise grows louder and softer at the same time, and he suddenly feels like he can hear everyone eating in a disgusting way that scrapes his insides like rusted metal.

He stands up.

“I don’t blame you, for not telling me about Gabriel living here,” he announces. “I won’t tell mother, don’t worry. Here.” He pulls out his wallet and grabs a twenty. “I know our money comes from the same place, but you shouldn’t have to pay for my lunch.”

“Um, okay,” Anna says. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”

Castiel breathes in and sighs. The urge to sit back down and spill everything runs through him, but it’s quelled by habit and indecision.

“I’m fine,” he says finally. He turns around to walk away, feeling off kilter. Technically there was nothing too strange about that conversation, he learned nothing he couldn’t have already figured out, but... everything felt stranger now. Or maybe it’s just that he’s stranger now. A new, unknown person set inside his old skin.

He manages to mostly shake the feeling off on his walk home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, sad chapter again, basically. Sorry. But you all knew it was coming, right?


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas told Dean something for the first time after they attended a science fair for Sam.
> 
> Now Dean gets support from his floormates on the anniversary of his father’s death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for underage drinking and drug use in this chapter- both in the "Now" section.

##  Then

“I still think it’s bullshit,” Dean said. “I mean, a science fair? A huge project right at the beginning of school?”

“Technically we’re two months into the school year,” Cas pointed out. “Did Sam complain?”

“Of course Sam didn’t complain, he loves nerdy shit like this, and he could pull off a great school project in his fucking sleep, little genius shit that he is,” Dean said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t be angry on his behalf.”

“If Sam isn’t irritated and his project is great, why be angry, on his behalf or otherwise?” Cas asked. 

“Well, first of all, of course Sammy’s project is great, it’s  _ his _ ,” Dean said, “and, secondly, someone’s gotta be irritated on this kid’s behalf. I’ve half a mind to go to the PTA meeting next month.”

“No you don’t,” Castiel said. He shook his head at Dean, hiding his smile. 

“Well no, I don’t, but only because PTA meetings are boring as fuck,” Dean admitted. “I have gone to a PTA meeting in the past though. That one was pretty eventful. These two moms got caught in a fight and one if them straight-up slapped the other.”

“Really?” Cas asked. He leaned in a bit more toward Dean, curious.

“Yup.” Dean glanced up at the map on the side of the bus. It was an afterschool event and Sam, of course, had stayed to help set up. John was out of town, leaving Dean and Cas to ride the city bus up to see the school science fair. “I’ll tell you about it until we get there.”

“Sounds like a deal,” Cas said. 

It took Dean about five seconds, once they got there, to find Sam. Cas had no idea how he did it. The whole fair was a busy mass of loitering adults and either shy or hyperactive children, but Dean circled straight through to Sam’s poster as if on instinct. 

Sam’s poster read “Myth, Fact, and Urban Legend: Wolves and Werewolves in North America.”. Cas would have been surprised, except he had already heard about how the theme of the fair was debunking myths and/or relating them to science facts. It ended the unit on the scientific method, and it was about what made something a theory vs a hypothesis and what was admissible as scientific evidence. 

Sam lit up when he saw them. He skipped right over.

“You came!” He exclaimed. 

“Of course we came, what do you take us for?” Dean scoffed.  _ Your father,  _ Cas answered in his head. He immediately felt guilty, and tried to bury the thought. It wasn’t like his own father was any better- he was much worse, in fact. Cas frequently forgot that he was actually theoretically supposed to be living with them. 

“Anyway, I couldn’t miss out on this beauty!” Dean continued. “Fucking werewolves! It’s awesome!”  
“Dean. Perhaps an elementary school isn’t the best place to swear,” Cas said. He couldn’t help but give Dean a small smile, despite the part of him that died at the sight of the three kids and five parents who had suddenly looked up at them in horror. 

Sam didn’t seem to mind, though. “They totally are! Did you know that werewolf legends actually tend to be based on European wolves more than American wolves? There’s actually a ton of misconceptions-” Sam rambled on, and Cas followed with some interest. To his slight surprise, Dean did as well. It wasn’t that Dean couldn’t be interested in this, it was that Dean tended to check out when information was given to him in the type of high-speed auditory mass that Sam was currently giving them. 

A glance sideways told Cas that Dean was keeping up just as well as he himself was, or he at least appeared to be. Maybe he wasn’t really, but, it suddenly occurred to Cas, Dean would probably pull out his fingernails rather than show Sam disinterest in this big school project that he was so proud of. Sam didn’t even seem to care that his father wasn’t here, not when he had Dean and Cas to bombard with every bit of research he’d heard. 

The teacher came over and complimented Sam on both his project and artistic poster, which caused both Sam and Dean to swell with pride. She had the wisdom not to mention the missing father, and didn’t comment on Cas being introduced as a “family friend”, despite being sixteen. The teacher said that Sam would definitely be getting an A, and Dean grinned as widely as Cas had ever seen him grin. He high-fived Sam and looked over back at Cas, who smiled back as enthusiastically as he possibly could. It wasn’t hard, their joy was definitely contagious. 

Dean leaned over to Cas once while Sam explained his poster to a curious peer and her parents. 

“I’m so goddamn proud of him,” Dean whispered. Cas looked over at him. Dean’s eyes were bright with affection and joy, and right then they seemed so very close. Here was Dean, whispering into Cas’s ear a fact so obvious that anyone in the room could see it, like it was a secret. As though it really was a secret to him, or at least something too important to communicate out loud casually, so it had to be whispered to another person of equal importance instead. 

Cas had known he was in love with Dean for a while, and he’d accepted it. Mostly it was just a background feeling, though a feeling that wasn’t evident in his day-to-day life until it swelled because he got to touch Dean, hold his gaze and study him, get one of his special smiles, or see even see anything that reminded him of Dean when Dean wasn’t there. Sometimes the feeling didn’t swell, though. Sometimes the feelings of affection and love hit him like a ton of bricks and knocked the breath out of him. 

Right then, seeing the adorable, parental way Dean saw this whole thing, getting Dean’s gaze like this and his whispered words in a crowd full of people, it hit him like a ton of bricks. 

“I love you,” Cas murmured. It slid under his breath, quiet enough that he might just believe that Dean didn’t hear it. Except Dean did hear it, it was evident in the way his eyes widened in surprise and the way he glanced down; the way his whole body twitched very slightly, as though he had just gotten a static shock. Cas felt the urge to kiss Dean like a physical need; not a lusty kiss or anything, just to lean forward and feel Dean’s lips against him for a moment. He did manage to hold back on that particular urge.

Before Dean could say anything, Sam called back over to them and both jolted their heads around quickly. 

“Hey!” Sam called. “Come meet my friend, Maddie! You should see her project, too!”

“Alright, we’ll come see your girlfriend’s project,” Dean said, strolling over to Sam. Cas followed him. 

“She’s not my girlfriend, Dean, you know that,” Sam said. 

The three of them stayed until the end, partially just so that Sam could hang out with Maddie, short for Madison, who seemed as sweet and smart as he was. Dean teased Sam about her a little bit, especially when she gave Sam her phone number at the end. Sam maintained that she was a good friend (“You don’t need to date girls all the time, Dean, they make awesome friends.”).

Dean got a million and one photos on his cell phone like a proud mother hen. He got ones of just the poster, ones of Sam and the poster (Sam looking a little shy, a little embarrassed, and very proud), ones of him and Sam in front of the poster, and a couple, after recruiting another parent for help, of him, Sam and Cas in front of the poster. 

He reviewed them all on the bus ride home, showing them to Sam and Cas again and again in turn. 

“I’m glad you took a bunch of pictures of it,” Sam said. “It was a fucking awesome poster, wouldn’t want to forget it.”

“Why are you leaving it there, then?” Cas asked. 

“Well, our teacher’s gonna put them all out in the hallway,” Sam answered, “and, anyway, we wouldn’t really have room for it on the bus.”

After they got off the bus and were within clear visual range of the hotel, Dean gave Sam the room key so that he could run ahead. Sam dashed off like a little shot, still high off his utterly successful poster presentation and excellent grade. Dean and Cas just meandered along behind him, watching him run skidding up to the hotel and disappear behind a corner. 

They brushed arms as they walked. Dean glanced over at Cas, who started humming gently. A tune familiar to Dean but unnamable filled their companionable silence. 

“I love you, too,” Dean said. Cas stopped humming and almost tripped over his feet. 

“You do?” Cas asked. 

“You don’t need to sound so surprised,” Dean said. “Loved you for awhile.”

“I’ve loved you for awhile, too,” Cas said. “Though I only realized during some sermon from Zachariah about how insidious homosexuality can hide in friendships.” It was Dean’s turn to stumble in surprise. 

“Seriously?” Dean asked. “That sucks.”

“Yes,” Cas answered. “Seriously.” He gave Dean a smile in return for his dumbfounded look. “Of course, at the time, I sort of thought that the feelings of love were temptations sent from the devil. But in my head I still called it love, sometimes, so I count it as knowing.”

“When was this whole sermon-thing?” Dean asked.

“After the practice kiss,” Cas said. “A couple weeks before my confession and our second kiss.”

“Well, then,” Dean said, “I got you beat.”

“Yeah?” Cas asked. He and Dean were both walking slowly because they were spending more time smiling at each other than looking at the sidewalk in front of them. 

“I realized that I love you on my birthday,” Dean said, “when you sang me an acoustic version of “Going to California’.”

“I remember,” Cas said. He knew it was a stupid thing to say, Dean’s birthday wasn’t even a year ago yet, but the look Dean gave him made it feel like a very good thing to say, actually. “It was freezing that night. I had to spend twenty minutes tuning my guitar. I was worried you’d hated it.” 

“Nah, I didn’t hate it,” Dean said. “Not at  _ all.  _ I was standing in the snow, freezing my ass off, listening to you sing and meeting your eyes whenever you looked up and I just- I realized smack like a fucking snowball to the face that I was totally in love with you.”

“Sounds unpleasant,” Cas murmured. 

“Hmm, not too much,” Dean said with a smirk. Cas gave him a knowing look from under his eyelashes and Dean felt a the beginnings of a blush spread across his cheeks. 

“Guuuuuuuuys!” Sam yelled from ahead of them as they rounded the corner. Sam popped his head out from the room. “Why do you walk so slooooooooow?”

“It’s ‘cause we’re old!” Dean called back. 

“Our bones ache!” Castiel added. 

“Uuuuuuugh,” Sam moaned at them in an exaggerated whine. He swung back inside the room, leaving the door open. “You’re fifteen!” 

“Yeah, and we feel every bit of our years, young’un!” Dean said. Cas started laughing, no longer able to hold it in. By the time they make it to the room they’re both laughing, and Sam whined at them some more for it before cracking up himself. 

* * *

##  Now

“You know, I think you’ve had enough of that, brother,” Benny says. He pulls the bottle right out of Dean’s hand and puts it on the highest shelf in the room. He always did this when Dean was really drunk, something about how Dean could have more when he could manage to actually stand up, walk across the room, and reach the bottle. Dean really doesn’t feel up for any of that right now, especially the bit about standing up, as he’s already a little bit nauseous. 

“You know, I’m not that drunk,” Dean protests. 

“I know. Still goin’ up there,” Benny says. 

“‘M just flirting with alcohol abuse, not really abusing it,” Dean says. He hiccups. At least he can still think coherently. Or at least, he thinks he can. “Just like dear old dad, rest his soul or whatever.”

“Pretty sure getting drunk in your bedroom on a weekday is so far from flirty it ain’t even funny,” Benny points out. “What’s up? At least usually you go out and get laid, it’s not just drinking to mope.”

“Nothing’s up,” Dean says. “Nothin’ at all. Just a weekday, like you said.”

“Okay.” Benny nods. “You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to, I guess. Just might be better to share then just sitting silently on the floor.”

“But this is a nice floor,” Dean protests. He leans over sideways onto it, easy to do from his position sitting up against the side of his bed. 

“You’re drunker than I thought,” Benny says. 

“Nice as the floors I grew up around,” Dean says. “Dad would get drunk occasionally, alone in his room. Only it wasn’t really alone ‘cause we were usually there ‘cause we usually had to share a room. Didn’t get much income.”

“Alright.” Benny says. He pulls Dean back up off the dorm floor into an upright position again. “Don’t mean you need to make out with the floor now. You might think those floors were grosser, but brother, this is a college dorm.”

“Can’t be worse than a motel room floor,” Dean argues. “Dad couldn’t help it though. Except maybe he could, fucking prideful cheating asshole dude. Not saying I’d want money from Dad’s mistress, but it’s not like we couldn’t have fucking used it.”

“Well, brother, it’s okay to be angry,” Benny says. “Good thing to learn.” He sets himself down on the floor next to Dean. 

“God I am. I fucking am,” Dean agrees. “Except I can’t be, ‘cause I was always the one to deal with Dad. Couldn’t be angry ‘cause I had to deal with him and talk to him and I just wanted him to be there, and now I have every fucking reason to be angry- I mean, he’s gone for good now, right? Right? Isn’t that a good fucking reason to be angry, that the asschole left again? Every fucking reason to be angry ‘cept it still fucking feels like I can’t be because I just- I just fucking can’t be. I just want him back.”

“Hey, Dean, it’s alright,” Benny says softly. Probably because Dean had started to tear up near the end of his monologue. Benny puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean waves it off. 

“I don’t want condolences, I want my fucking alcohol.” Dean manages to pull himself up, only a little bit wobbly. It might be a bit slower than he’d do it sober, but he manages to get over to the other side of the room and pull his bottle off the shelf again. 

“Brother, give me the bottle,” Benny orders. He stands up to get within reach of it. 

“So you can put it somewhere else?” Dean asks. “No thanks.”

“Not gonna take it from you again,” Benny says. He manages to pull it out of Dean’s grip. “Just can’t let you drink this whole fucking thing.” Benny tops off saying that by tilting his head back and taking a couple gulps of it himself. He pulls the bottle away from his lips with a cough and a shake of his head. “Wow, that stuff’s nasty. Where’d you even find this cheap shit?”

“Corner store,” Dean answers as he takes the bottle back. “One of the cheapest things in there.”

“‘One of’?” Benny asks. “No, actually, don’t answer, I don’t think I want’ta know.”

“Then I won’t,” Dean agrees. “Drink with me!” And with that he plops himself down on the floor. 

“We’re not just gonna drink,” Benny says. He sits himself across from Dean. “You got some serious shit to go through, so let’s do some catharsis.”

“Doesn’t that involve breaking shit?” Dean asks. “Dude. This is our room.”

“Nah, doesn’t have to,” Benny informs him. “It can just be yelling or saying the real shit you want to say to someone else to me ‘cause whoever else won’t hear it or isn’t here to.” 

“I’m not just gonna sit here and yell on the floor of my room like a dork,” Dean says. 

“Then I’ll start,” Benny says. “I am a gay Southerner in love with a black man and I got some fucking shit to yell about.”

“Woah, woah, wait,” Dean interrupt. He puts a hand on Benny’s shoulder. “You’re in love with him?”

“Well, yeah, think so,” Benny admits. “Not up for telling him ‘bout it yet, but yeah.” 

“Good for you, dude,’ Dean says. He takes another long drink from the bottle. “Good for you. Cool. You can start yelling now.”

After only a little bit, Garth, their RA, comes to check on them to make sure they’re alright, because, as he tells them, there’s a weird amount and type of drunken yelling coming from their room. Not only does Garth not mind the alcohol, as technically this isn’t a substance-free floor, he entirely approves of the emotional work they’re doing. 

“Sometimes you just gotta get those emotions out there,” Garth says. “Whatever they’re going to be. Doing it in a safe place like this is a cool way to grow as a person.”

“As long as you don’t hug me,” Dean says. “No hugging.”

At some later point Victor and Kevin come on in. Dean’s not entirely sure whether or not they come in together or separately. He doesn’t really care, as what’s important is the fact that Victor brings a six pack of beer with him. 

Garth is a light-weight and is completely drunk after chugging a single beer, and Kevin turns out to have a lot of issues. Victor, after seeing the state that they’re all in, decides not to drink. 

“Someone needs to stop you people from killing yourselves,” Victor tells them. “And our RA doesn’t really seem to be in a good state for that.” He jerks a thumb over toward Garth. 

“What?” Garth asks. “We’re just  _ expressing _ our  _ emotions _ . When did that ever kill anybody?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if it has killed somebody,” Dean says. “Shit’s hard.”

“I just wish my mom would lay off a bit!” Kevin yells. Pause from catharsis over. “I know she loves me and just wants the best for me, but at this point I’m gonna crack at thirty! I can’t crack at thirty! I’ll only be a Senator by then!”

“Nah, you won’t crack at thirty,” Benny assures him. “You’ll make it.”

“To the end of this year, maybe,” Victor puts in on the end. Kevin starts crying. Benny glares at Victor, and Victor sighs and scoots over to start comforting Kevin. 

“How old even is Kevin?” Dean whispers to Garth. 

“Um, sixteen,” Garth says. “Don’t worry. Victor knows, he can monitor his drinking, and we’re all here to look after him.”

“Sixteen.” Dean repeats. “Huh.” He looks back over at the crying Kevin, who is now being comforted by Benny patting him on the back and Victor explaining how much he believes in him. At least someone here seems more fucked up than Dean. 

Kevin falls asleep pretty soon after that, and they manage to sit him sideways in Benny’s bed. Dean was very clear on this. Benny has an alternate bed in their dorm to sleep in anyway (Victor’s) and it was his idea to yell about feelings, so his bed is going to get sacrificed. 

It’s good that Kevin falls asleep and stays asleep, because pretty soon after that Andy shows up. Dean isn’t quite sure how Andy even knew what was going on, but there he is. He’s the one to bring the weed. Dean is relieved that the anniversary of his father’s death falls on a Tuesday, because Wednesday he only has afternoon classes. 

There’s no way in hell Dean is not getting stoned, and Andy seems pretty happy to share. He tells them that he was unhappy about smoking alone anyway.  

“Dude.” Dean turns to Garth as Benny fumbles a little with the bong and Victor helps him. “You’re a shit RA.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Garth sighs. “At least when I watch you I know you guys aren’t going to do anything dangerous or illegal, though.”

“Um.” Dean gestures to the scene. “Aren’t we sorta anyway?”  
“I mean, something illegal out in public,” Garth clarifies. “Keep it safe and in your room.”

“Man, Garth, where do you even come from?” Dean asks. “You’re the fucking best.”

“I know,” Garth agrees with a joking smile. “You’re the best too, Dean.” Dean’s already taken a couple hits, so he doesn’t even protest when Garth reaches over and hugs him. Garth really is the best. He doesn’t even care when Dean hugs him back for an uncomfortably long time and starts crying about how he can’t be the best because everyone leaves him. 

Dean wakes up in Benny’s bed around one in the morning. He glances over at his own bed and is only somewhat surprised to see both Garth and Andy asleep in it. They’re both fully clothed and Andy looks like he’s about to fall out of the bed at any moment. Dean pulls himself up with a groan, and then looks at the scene and smiles. They’re utter dorks. 

Dean then falls out of bed trying to reach the trashcan. 

Later, while he slowly starts getting ready to venture out and get breakfast and maybe go to class, Dean starts thinking about what happened last night. He realizes with a jolt that he might have outed himself to everyone last night. They were talking about their feelings and Dean remembers vaguely yelling about some asshole ex who left him with no explanation, but he doesn’t remember if he mentioned gender. He shrugs his shoulder. Probably not. 

Then Dean stops what he’s doing completely. Did he just  _ shrug  _ at the possibility that all his friends may know he’s bisexual? Did he just feel worried but not overwhelmed? Dean quickly tries to evaluate his emotions about everything and whether or not they’ve managed to change overnight. 

It all mostly feels the same: confusing, and bad. He feels a little more settled about his father, a little more angry at Cas, but all in all it doesn’t seem like anything has really fundamentally changed about his attitude toward everything. It’s just that everything feels a little more raw, but somehow not worse. Maybe even better. It’s all the same, but it seems a little more okay. As though he just tore a piece of duct tape off and his skin is still smarting but no longer as sticky and sweaty. 

Dean splashes his face with water and stares at himself in the mirror. Maybe he should get drunk and high with his friends more often. It’s really incredible to even have friends. 

Dean spends the rest of the day in fairly good spirits, texting Sam, Benny, Garth, and everybody else a bit more than usual. Reveling at his ability to keep in contact with others and talk to his friends. 

It’s only when he goes to bed that night that something jolts him awake, a memory. It stays in his head for awhile, keeping him awake. The question that Professor Mosley asked him earlier that week, coming back to him in full force. 

_ Does he have friends looking after him? _

Dean had known the answer to that question, he had known that he knew the answer, though he was completely unwilling to admit it to Professor Mosley. The answer was no. Cas seemed to have no friends at all.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Garth is either the best or worst RA in the word. I was planning for the Now section to be really, really different but then this happened? I don't know. Anyways, be careful about drinking and drugs kids, they can destroy your life. Or be a really cool time, but that's when used sparingly and socially. Also, like all of the drinking and drug use in this chapter is illegal, and they could've been in really trouble had Garth not also been a very irresponsible college student. Irresponsible for given definitions of irresponsible, of course. 
> 
> As for the Then section... Ah, the L word. Lesbians. Wait, there aren't any in this chapter. 
> 
> Anyways, have some love! Of all kinds! Family love, friend, romantic! This chapter is damn full of love!


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas and Dean's make-out session gets and unwelcome interruption.
> 
> Now Dean has another unwitting series of texts with Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning in the Now section for annoying text-speak.

## Then

Castiel makes it through the window first. He awkwardly pulls himself through his window, glad for his thinness. He lands with a thump on the floor, and quickly picks himself up out of Dean’s way. Dean comes after him. Dean has less experience doing this than Cas does, and he ends up doing a sort of limbo getting though.

Dean barely has time to pull himself up when Cas grabs his shirt to pull him forward into a kiss. It’s a quiet yet intense kiss, hunger undampened by the awareness of where they were. Dean gladly returns it, grabbing Cas shoulders to pull him even further in.

They continue the kiss for a few minutes more. It slowed down after that first desperate burst of energy. Dean and Cas both were so amazed that they got this, that they got a chance to have this kiss for as long as they wanted to. Cas wants to grab every moment of this that he can and stretch it out, like the slow chords of a song intro.

Dean has a similar feeling, but it’s not as familiar to him. Dean is more used to quick, simple pleasures. He’s rarely ever felt like he could go slowly with something forever, just because it was beautiful and there and he never wanted to lose it, but now he does.

When they finally stop kissing they continue to stand like that, close together, faces touching, for a few moments more. Dean opens his eyes first, taking a few extra moments to memorize the shape of Castiel’s cheekbones, his lips, the calming rhythm of Cas’s breath. When Cas’s breathing falters he opens his eyes and is greeted with a vision of the iridescent green of Dean’s eyes. They stare right into each other for a moment.

“Hey,” Dean says.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas says.

Dean smiles. Cas pulls Dean by his shirt onto the bed.

They land with a louder thump than Castiel had intended, but he can’t find it in himself to care. They lay there, still and intertwined on the bed. Dean rolls over onto his side toward Cas, and Cas looks over toward Dean. They end up kissing for minutes more, sleepy kisses that have Cas running his hands over Dean’s arms and chest and Dean taking Cas’s face in one hand.

Dean starts working the buttons of Cas’s shirt open, and in response Cas slips a hand up Dean’s shirt. The feel of Cas’s hand brushing against the bare skin above the waist of his pants shocks Dean into realizing what they were doing. He pulls back.

“Shit!” He whispered. “Shit, Cas, we’re at your house, we need to stop.”

Cas pulled back as well, still breathing heavy. He nodded in agreement, then rolled over on his back away from Dean.

“Yeah.” He said. “Yeah, I know, we can’t do this here.”

Dean settled in next to him. He hesitated a moment before curling up around Cas, and pressing his face against his shoulder. Cas moved his head to the side though that it rests against Dean’s. Both of them are still breathing heavily, and all the skin contact only made it harder to stay still and resist the temptation to continue what they were doing moments before, but Dean couldn’t bring himself to move away.

They laid in silence and waited as their heartbeats slowed. Cas reached up to stroke Dean’s face, but froze completely before he’d even touched him.

Someone had just knocked at the door.

“Castiel?” His mother’s voice asked from behind the door. “Are you asleep?”

Castiel shoved Dean off the bed before he had time to think. Dean rolled off with a thunk. Cas was miming something to him desperately, but he was still too disoriented to exactly see what he was saying.

“Get under the bed!” Cas hissed, and understanding hit Dean like a static shock. He shoved himself under as the voice behind the door started up again.

“Castiel?” His mother asked again. “Castiel, I’m trying to give you some respect by knocking, please do not betray it by ignoring me.”

“Sorry!” Cas called back. “Just about to get ready for bed, very tired, sorry!”

Naomi opened the door without further explanation. Dean could only see her feet up to her ankles, which was the most he’d ever seen of her. He watched a pair of faded pink slippers cross the room and stop right in front of him, at the bed.

“You should really already be ready for bed.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Cas repeated apologies as though they were a verbal tick. “I had so much homework tonight, I- I was delayed.”

“As long as you were only delayed a little bit it’s fine,” Naomi said. “Sleep is important, though.”

Castiel didn’t say anything. Maybe he nodded, Dean wouldn’t know, either way Naomi continued as if he had responded.

“I just wanted to check on you, Castiel,” Naomi explained. “I know this must be hard on you, the way your brother is acting. It takes stupendous faith to keep going.”

“Thank you,” Cas said. Dean could barely hear his voice, it was so quiet. This entire interaction was a surreal thing to witness, especially without the ability to see either of their faces. He was third-wheeling the conversational equivalent of a monologue in an awkward pause from underneath a bed.

“You just seem so distant lately,” Naomi said. “You’ve always been quiet, it’s been a blessing sometimes, but now I feel like I’m losing track of you. It’s a terrible time for me to lose track of more of my children, Castiel.”

Castiel doesn’t respond verbally, and it’s driving Dean slightly crazy to not even know whether he nodded or acknowledged what she said in any way, or if his mother is speaking to still silence.

“You’re so different from Lucifer, I suppose I can take comfort from that,” Naomi continued. “I only wish you had the confidence of Michael. Even in your musical performances you start shy.” She sighed again. “Better shy than rebellous, though. Lucifer is twisted in sin and he’ll face consequences far beyond me. I won’t be able to protect him from that.”

There was complete silence, before Naomi spoke again. Dean knew, somehow, that Cas definitely didn’t move an inch during this pause.

“I am doing the best I can to fix this family and keep it together, the best I can, but I’m so far from perfect. Maybe Lucifer is only paying the price for my mistakes. For our mistakes, mine and your father’s. I suppose this disturbance can only be expected in a fatherless household.”

There’s another pause, and in this pause Dean saw Naomi turn and move to sit on the bed. Above him Castiel is trapped in the type of momentary hell that is the unavoidable conversation with an authority figure determined to find an outlet for a deep conversation whether said outlet wants that conversation or not. He’d been staring at his bedroom door for the entire conversation, and he prays to God that she won’t ask him to look at her.

The room already had an unreal quality to it, and Castiel felt as disconnected to it as he did to his rapidly beating heart. It was a world away, the entire scene was, but his mother’s words would still come through. He couldn’t even consider that Dean was under the bed and one word would get him into- into- “trouble” was not nearly word enough for what would follow if his mother found a strange boy hiding under his bed.

Under the bed, Dean suppressed the urge to groan in frustration and wished that Naomi would just leave already. On the bed, Castiel prayed desperately for the same thing.

Naomi, oblivious to it all, continued her speech. Something in the uneven cadence of her voice hinted that she’d been drinking wine that night. Castiel stared more intensely than ever at his bedroom door, because that was the closest he could come to squeezing his eyes shut.

“I should’ve done better at keeping your father. I know I should’ve. I failed as a wife, and now I’ve failed as a mother.” Pause. “Is it too late for me to ask you to play me something?”

“...What?” Castiel asked. He tore his eyes away from the door to see if they could actually make it to his mother’s face. He ended up staring into her ear.

“I suppose it’s too late. I’ve kept you up long enough as it is.” She stood up. “Go to sleep, Castiel.”

Dean slowly let out a breath as he watched her pink slippers retreat to the doorway.

She stopped at the doorway and turned before exciting. All the tenseness returned to Dean’s body with a side of nausea. She wasn’t going, and Dean didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

Then she turned around. Dean stopped breathing, it felt like his heart stopped, and his entire body went tense. _She knows,_ he thought. _She must know, somehow- she saw me, or I made a noise, or she heard me breathing, but she knows! She knows I’m here, she’s going to catch me and- she knows, she knows-_

“Goodnight, Castiel,” Naomi said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Castiel responded. His voice seemed flat.

Dean saw Naomi close the door, and he waited until her footsteps disappeared down the hall to pull himself slowly out from under the bed. Cas didn’t say anything, he didn’t even look up at Dean. Dean sat down on the bed, next to Cas, and sighed.

Cas looked down. He felt distant from everything, which wasn’t a new feeling for him. It was the same numbness that came up so frequently in family interactions, except it wasn’t familiar right now. He’d never felt this way around Dean before, and seeing Dean now while feeling this way made him feel even more out of place. There was a disconnect between the life Castiel had with his family and the life Cas had with Dean; there should be a disconnect, and the way the lines were blurring right now made everything seem even more off.

“Cas?” Dean asked. Castiel was vaguely aware of the fact that this might not have been the first time Dean said his name. Dean put a hand on his shoulder and started speaking again.

“...you there, buddy?” Cas caught the last end of the statement and shook his head.

“You should go,” Castiel managed. Dean drew back a bit.

“You sure?” Dean asked. Dean was looking Castiel directly in the eyes, his face holding a rare serious expression. His voice was concerned, as were his eyes and the furrow in his brow. Castiel found himself hesitating, his own thoughts hard to access.  

“I don’t know,” Castiel said. Dean’s eyes were suddenly too much, something had altered and for once the feeling of Dean’s hands weren’t a comfortable warmth but a sweaty hot flash. Castiel broke contact and looked away. The idea of looking at Dean seemed as unbearable as the sounds of his mother’s footsteps in the hallway would have been. The idea of looking at anyone made Castiel start to feel a touch nauseous.

“I can go,” Dean said. “If you’re sure you’ll be okay.” Castiel didn’t say anything. Dean reached up to touch him, Castiel sensed the movement and blinked. Dean stopped.

“I can text you and call you in the morning,” Dean proposed. “Or later tonight.” Castiel didn’t react. “Would that be okay? Cas?” Dean brought his hand back up to Castiel’s arm. “Would that be okay?” He repeated again, slower.

Castiel nodded. It was what he could manage. He didn’t move as Dean gathered himself up and left. He could tell when Dean hesitated before going out the window, and the sudden urge to ask Dean to come back sprung up, the most definitive thing Cas had felt in the past minutes.

“Dean.” That was all that came out, though whether it was all that Cas could manage or the only part of the urge Cas couldn’t suppress he wasn’t sure.

“Yeah?” Dean turned to look at him. The ring around his pupils were a clear green, darker than usual. Cas tried to stared at them. “Cas?”

The question shook Castiel out of his reverie. He blinked and every emotion came back at once. The urge to beg Dean to stay, a physical feeling tingling in his arms and hands, combatted the confusion and nausea working it’s way through Castiel’s digestive system. For a moment Castiel’s chest constricted and he missed a breath.

“Goodnight,” Cas said. He turned away from Dean, toward the his bedroom wall, a plopped himself down into the bed. He curled up into a ball and listened as Dean left.

“Ah,” Dean seemed caught off guard. “Uh, goodnight, Cas. Sweet dreams.” A beat of silence. “Hope you- hope you get some good sleep.” There was another moment of weighted silence as Dean paused before exiting.

After the shuffling noises of Dean’s exit faded away, Castiel was left with nothing but the sounds of wind and his own breath.

* * *

## Now

Castiel thinks it might be wrong, on some level, to text Dean for support. Especially when Dean doesn’t know who he is. But Castiel doesn’t have many avenues for support right now, so he’ll take what he can get.

He just has the impulse to reach out to other people, to talk. Except he can’t think of many people for him to reach out to. That’s probably his own fault, he’s made his less-dysfunctional family relationships worse and pushed away any friends who might accept him. He didn’t mean to do it, he was trying to do the right thing, but here he is.

He might not deserve to reach out to Dean, but he was going to do it anyway.

Cas: _Have you ever told a lie that lasted for so long that even when you knew you could tell the truth you didn’t?_

Dean: _this is pretty deep from a drunken hook-up i gave my number to_

Dean: _but yeah_

Dean: _i totally have_

Dean: _it sucks_

Cas: _Yes_

Cas: _It does suck_

Dean: _you can tell me if you want_

Cas _What?_

Dean: _idk who u r, so u can tell me_

Dean: _no need to worry_

Dean: _no big history u have to worry about_

Cas: _I’m not telling you_

Dean: _why txt me about it then?_

Cas: _I don’t know_

Dean: _really?_

Cas: _I thought you’d understand_

Dean: _that ur reason for texting?_

Dean: _or u thought i’d get ur reason for not telling?_

Cas: _First one_

Cas: _I thought you’d understand about keeping secrets_

Dean: _wow_

Dean: _didn’t know my vibe was that sleezy_

Cas: _No_

Cas: _I mean I know you have secrets_

Dean: _wait_

Dean: _what do you mean_

Dean: _hello????_

Dean: _did i tell u anything while i was drunk?_

Dean: _???????????_

Cas: _Yes_

Cas: _About your father_

Cas: _He sounded like an asshole_

Dean: _good to know i can’t even get thru a 1 night stand w/o bringing up dad_

Dean: _HE was the liar_

Dean: _cheated on my mom_

Dean: _didn’t evven know about it until after he died_

Dean: _and he died fucking_

Dean: _14 YEARS AFTER HER_

Dean: _so he had this whole girlfriend he hid from us for 14 YEARS_

Dean: _oh shit_

Dean: _didn’t mean to dump all my issues liek that_

Dean: _just keeps buggin me_

Dean: _sorry_

Dean: _r u still there?_

Cas: _Yes_

Cas: _I didn’t know what to type_

Cas: _That’s terrible_

Dean: _it’s okay_

Cas: _Did he die recently?_

Cas: _You don't have to answer_

Dean: _its fine_

Dean: _sorta recent_

Dean: _2 days more than a year ago_

Cas: _I’m sorry_

Cas: _That must have been hard_

Dean: _its all cool_

Dean: _stop apologizing_

Dean: _i had friends to help_

Cas: _Good._

Dean: _okay so can i talk to u_

Dean: _b/c u wont know who I’m talking about_

Cas: _Sure_

Cas: _If you really want to tell me_

Cas: _But I might know_

Dean: _i won’t mention names_

Dean: _so i have this like_

Dean: _ex-friend_

Dean: _who I’m worried about_

Dean: _but who doesn’t want to talk to me_

Dean: _I’m just worried he doesnt have anyone to talk to_

Dean: _is there any way to_

Dean: _like_

Dean: _give people friends?_

Cas: _No_

Cas: _I don’t think there is_

Cas: _If he doesn’t want to talk to you, then you shouldn’t have to worry_

Cas: _You can be guilt free_

Dean: _idk_

Dean: _i know i said exfriend_

Dean: _and i dont want to be his friend cause hes an asshole_

Dean: _but i can’t turn off worry_

Dean: _still hope he’ll be okay_

Cas: _It doesn’t sound like you can do anything_

Cas: _Just try not to worry_

Cas: _You have enough to deal with_

Cas: _Just make sure you’re okay_

Dean: _wow drunk me could really charm u_

Dean: _u rlly seem to care_

Cas: _I do_

Dean: _its ok then_

Dean: _dont worry_

Dean: _ill be a-okay_

Dean: _:)_

Cas: _Excellent_

Cas: _You deserve to be better than okay_

Dean: _wow_

Dean: _who even r u?_

Dean: _u deserve pretty good things urself_

Dean: _:)_

Castiel wonders whether or not Dean would have said that if he’d known who he was texting. It doesn’t really matter. Dean already knows that he’s an asshole, and Cas knows himself that he’s a liar, so what’s more lying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That feel when you spill all your problems to a stranger on the phone who isn't actually a stranger? Sometimes it seems like it's easier to be nice and open with strangers than people we know.
> 
> All misspellings in text-speak are my attempts are realism in texting. I'm sorry.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Dean admitted bad news to Cas.
> 
> Now Castiel feels crushed by the weight of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a day late!

## Then

“And he was wearing sunglasses!” Dean exclaimed. “Who the fuck wears sunglasses indoors?”

“I agree, he shouldn’t have closed the door on you,” Cas said. “But I’m still not sure he did it purposefully.”

“Did you see the look he gave me?” Dean asked. “He totally did it purposefully.” They were talking back from the library, book bags on their backs. Dean had his math textbook and a Vonnegut book in one arm. His bag had been wearing out, and Dean wanted to prolong its breaking for as long as possible. They were ostensibly coming from a study session, but those had gotten much less productive since they’d started dating.

“Maybe,” Cas shrugged. “It was rude. I don’t think there’s any reason to keep going over it, though, really.”

“No reason?” Dean asked. “No reason? I- Well- I mean-”

Castiel waited. Dean gave up.

“It was still rude,” Dean grumbled. Cas shrugged, not really feeling up to a nod of agreement at that moment. They had reached the motel complex around then. When they get to the door to the Winchester’s room Dean fumbled out his keys from his pockets.

It seemed to be stuck on something, and Cas watched as Dean moved his other hand around to see if he could get it more and-

“FUCK!” The books Dean had been holding in his other arm fell out onto the pavement. Dean left his key in his pocket to bend down and pick them up. After that he pulled the key out of his pocket forcefully, ripping some part of his pocket in the pocket and not really caring. They were shitty jeans anyway.

Dean shoved the key in the lock to twist open the door. When he glanced to his side he saw Cas staring at him.

“What?” He asked, not trying to sound irritated but sounding it anyway.

“Dean, are you doing alright?” Castiel asked. His voice was mostly concerned, and his eyes were wide with confusion.

Dean sighed. “Maybe there’s something I should tell you.”

“If you should tell it to me, then it sounds like you should tell it to me, there’s no real need to worry about maybe,” Cas replied.

“It doesn’t really matter yet, though,” Dean said. “It really- it shouldn’t matter for awhile, so it doesn’t really matter. I don’t think it will matter for awhile.”

“Are you reassuring me that it won’t happen for awhile?” Cas asked. “I’m not sure that would make sense, as I don’t even know what ‘it’ is.”

“It is-” Dean started. He stopped, and tried again. “My dad is talking about moving again.”

“Oh,” Cas said, after a moment. “Is he serious?”

“He-” Dean hesitates, and glanced around, remembering that they were basically in the motel parking lot. He sighed. “C’mon in. I’ll tell you more.”

Cas follows him over the threshhold, not taking his eyes from Dean. It wasn’t much different from Cas’s normal staring, but something in his gaze made Dean nervous.

“It’s probably just fine, Cas, you don’t have to look so worried,” Dean said.

“If it’s probably fine, then you don’t have to worry either,” Cas replied.

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are,” Cas said. He took his eyes off Dean to set himself down on Dean’s bed. He crossed his arms around himself, as if to hold himself, and sighed. Dean sat down beside him and put an arm around him. Cas looked up to give a tired smile and leaned into him.

“It wouldn’t be for awhile, I think. He sorta backed off when he realized it bothered me,” Dean explained. “It was just yesterday.”

“I’m surprised he never realized it bothered you before,” Cas said. He uncrossed his arms to take hold of Dean’s free hand, and which he rubbed with his thumb in a soothing rhythm. _We knew this was coming,_ Cas could have said, but he didn’t. He just sat, feeling small even with Dean’s arm around him.

“Well, I never really actually said it bothered me before,” Dean admitted. Cas paused his motion and squinted his eyes at Dean in confusion.

“You didn’t?” Cas asked. It seemed so odd to him, that Dean wouldn’t have even mentioned it, but maybe it shouldn’t have been such a surprise.

Dean shrugged. “Sammy always freaks out when we move, and he’s always too pissed at Dad to do anything but fight with him. Dad’s always got a billion things to do, anyway. So I’ve gotta help out with both of them, and it’s not like moving always easy on them either, so I don’t really bring all that stuff up. It doesn’t really matter, anyway, does it?”

“Of course it matters, Dean,” Cas said. This wasn’t in the soft, gentle tone of a caressing reassurance. This is in the blunt tone of someone pointing out the obvious.

“I know it matters to _me,_ Cas, I’m not an idiot,” Dean snapped. “I just mean it’s not gonna stop us from moving. Sam throws a little bitch fit every fucking time and that never did shit, why would my tantrums do any better?”

“I don’t know,” Cas said. It seemed like it should to him, like it would be more than just tantrums or “bitch fits”, but Cas couldn’t put the reason why it seemed that to him into coherent thought. It wasn’t like Cas had ever really observed much changing from someone objecting to their life- not changing in the way anyone wanted it to change, anyway. Lucifer could go on as many drunken shouting rages as he wanted, their mother would never really hear him. Anna could try the most logical arguments she could come up with, but it would be the same.

In a way, it did make sense. Dean couldn’t say anything that would make any of it any different. Of course he couldn’t. This fitted within the patterns of life Castiel had always observed.

Why did it feel so wrong to him?

Dean just sat there next to Cas after this admission, and Cas’s recession into his own thoughts. He felt helpless, torn in a million directions. The words “I don’t know” echoed in his mind, and they seemed taunting and intolerable.

After a few minutes Dean got up, abruptly, to pace out his restless emotions. Cas followed his motions with his eyes but didn’t say anything. Dean started to speak, still pacing, looking at his own feet.

“This isn’t okay,” Dean said. “It isn’t. This can’t be the end of it. It can’t just be this tiny, little- little- defeat! I can’t just fucking move away, and just pretend like nothing happened, and it’s all just the same! I mean,” he paused, finally, to look around at Cas, “I love you. I can’t just- it can’t just end like this, right?”

Cas shrugged. He felt, if anything, more tired by Dean’s restlessness. “I love you, too, Dean, but we knew this would happen. We knew it-” He took in a breath “-knew it would end. What can we do?”

“What can we do?” Dean repeated. “What can we do? We can do- something! We can’t just do nothing!”

“And what exactly is ‘something’ supposed to be, Dean?” Cas asked. “Maybe you were right before. Maybe it doesn’t really matter. Nothing’s really changed, has it? Your father didn’t give you a date, or anything, so did our position really change?”

“‘Did our position really change?’” Dean quoted. Dean had gotten to the point of waving his arms and gesturing wildly for emphasis. “You sound like you’re playing a game of chess, or something. These are our lives, Cas, don’t you care?”

“It’s not a matter of life or death, Dean,” Cas said. “I do care, but there’s nothing-”

“There’s not nothing we can do!” Dean shouted. “There can not be nothing we can do! I so fucking tired of it, we can do something!”

Dean’s shouting was like like snow falling over Cas’s skin, bringing nothing but cold and numbness. Cas didn’t respond.

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Dean asked. Even he could hear the scrape of desperation in his voice. He didn’t really know what he was doing, he knew it felt a bit off, but he just couldn’t not. It was all too much, and Dean couldn’t help but be explosive as he reached out to contain it.

Cas looked down, as if in response.

“You can’t just- you can’t just sit there and do nothing,” Dean said. His tone was horse. “You can’t shut down and leave me.” _Please don’t leave me, Cas._

Dean closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he tried.

“It’s okay,” Cas said. “I’ve just had enough of the yelling.”

“Haven’t you had enough of all of it, Cas?” Dean asked. “Don’t you want to do something?”

“Like what?” Castiel asked.

“Like, I don’t know, run away!” Dean proposed.

“Where would we go?” Castiel asked. His voice was quiet, through this entire conversation. “What would we do, Dean?”

“I don’t know, we’d get jobs, or something,” Dean said. “We’re sixteen. We’re legal for work, most places.”

“If we run away we’re legal for getting dragged back,” Castiel pointed out. “How would we explain it? Do you know what my parents would do to me?”

“Do you know what my dad would do to _me?”_ Dean asked. “You’re not the only one with shit on the line, Cas. I don’t want to leave Sammy- maybe we could bring him with us, I take care of him anyway-”

“Do you take care of him financially?” Castiel asked.

“Just shut up!” Dean yelled again. He couldn’t help it, he could see his plan and his choices dissolving before his eyes. “What happened to free fucking will? Don’t you have any of that? Or are you just too fucking broken?”

Cas flinched, visibly, and stood up.

“Shit. Shit, Cas, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean- I’m just stressed and-”

Cas just turned and walking toward the door.

“Wait!” Cas stopped, right at the exit. He leaned and arm against the doorframe, and looked behind him.

“You’re not broken.” Dean’s eyes were wide and earnest. He stared at Cas and Cas thought he could see every speck of green in those hopeful, desperate eyes. “Or if you are it doesn’t matter, I don’t care, I must be too, because I love you. I do. I’m sorry.”

Cas stared at him for a moment and wanted to say something. Something like the “I love you, too” bubbling up his throat. Yet when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He was still too numb, too separated. There was too much here. Did “I love you” mean “I’ll run away with you”? Could Cas ever mean that? Could broken cowards like the ones in his family, like him, love like that?

Cas closed his mouth, and swallowed.

“I love you, too,” he managed. Then he turned around and ran.

Back in the room Dean stood rooted to the spot, trying to figure out what had just happened. A buzzing in his pocket went off, and Dean checked it to find that it was an alarm. It was time for Sam to be walking home from the bus.

Dean saw Cas again the day after next. They sat together and held each other. Cas told Dean about his music lessons and the piece he was working on, Dean told Cas about his English. They watched part of an episode of Dr. Sexy. They didn’t mention the discussion, the argument, the moving, or any idea of running away in the future. Dean was too afraid to bring it up, and Castiel didn’t even have the words.

* * *

 

## Now

Castiel skips the ceremony for his scholarship. He sends out an email in advance, says that he’s sick. He gets a reply that it’s quite alright, the ceremony is just a formality. Castiel isn’t entirely sure if this is true, but he can’t bring himself to worry. He’s just not sure he can face Meg again, especially now that she’ll have questions. Whether or not she’ll accept his apology, especially after his complete radio silence, is something he doesn’t know and isn’t sure he wants to know. No one he lives with even knows about the scholarship, because he can’t be bothered to tell them.

He has several new texts on his phone, all from Anna. He doesn’t know what they say, he finds it hard imagine what she would text him at all. He can’t imagine Anna texting him anything that would make him feel better- it’s not that he thinks Anna wouldn’t be well-meaning, he just cannot imagine anything she would say to him would actually make him feel anything but worse.

He thought he already made his choice, but here it is again. At least he isn’t the child he was.

He picks up his phone and scrolls over to his conversation with Dean yesterday. He thinks about how nice it is, to at least secretly speak to Dean again. He thinks about how when he stopped Alastair it was the first time he’d actually done something, actually felt like he could do something, something brave, in years. He considers the practical fact that, whether he can admit it out loud or not, the music scholarship is insurance. It’s insurance to let him do things like meet up with his sister and discuss a brother that their family has disowned out of their sphere of known existence.

Then the image of Lucifer’s hospital room comes up in his mind, just for a moment. How bare it was, all white and clean and empty.

Castiel closes his eyes and lets his phone drop to the floor. The room’s too empty, and the quiet leaves him with nothing but his own thoughts. He doesn’t even hear any noises from outside. When was the last time anyone even visited his room? Would they even know if he was in here or not?

If he died, right now, how long would it take them to realize?

The line of thought continues. If he were to die, right now, what would happen? His roommates would find him, eventually. It would be Uriel, or even Alastair. He wonders, absently, what they would feel beyond surprise. How much they would care. Maybe it would be someone else to find him, though. Like Gordon. Or Balthazar- Castiel hopes it wouldn’t be Balthazar, because he might actually care. It would probably mess Balthazar up worse, and Castiel would feel bad about that. He supposes if he really were dead he it wouldn’t matter, but thinking about it is vaguely upsetting. His roommates might attend his funeral, actually, in place of friends. Not many of his friends from high school would be able to make it, though perhaps some people from his high school who barely knew him would come because they were friend of the family, or of his siblings. The thought doesn’t make Castiel feel any better.

Gabriel wouldn’t be there. If he did come, they’d probably try to kick him out.

Anna would come. It would be under pretenses, though, and there’d be tension between her and their parents the whole time. Castiel wonders, briefly, what Anna would do if Gabriel showed up. Whether she would be quiet or stand up and speak for him, and what she would say.

None of this would mean a funeral that was actually about him. But that was alright. Funerals weren’t really for the dead, anyway, and Castiel isn’t sure if any of them know him well enough, currently or ever, to have a funeral about him, anyway.

What would Dean do, if Castiel died? How would he mourn?

Castiel realizes that he’s shaking. He puts his arms around around himself, but the shaking doesn’t stop.

He reaches out to his bedside table and pulls off his phone.

He absently flips through it once it’s in his hand. He’s not planning to call anyone, he just needs to hold something. To do something with the with the restless energy from the anxiety shaking through his fingers.

It’s only after he’s actually opened his text conversation with Dean that Cas realizes what he was doing. He was going to text Dean. He doesn’t know if it was a subconscious decision or a habit still ingrained from two years past.

Whatever it is, now that their messages are open Cas doesn’t want to exit out.

_Have you ever really second guessed something?_ He texts to Dean. _Like second guessed something along with every single thing that’s happened since?_

It takes him a bit to type out the messages. It could be tricky to type with proper spelling and grammar in the first place, but Castiel is used to that and the delay it caused. The trembling fingers give the charade a new level of difficulty, though. He flips his phone immediately closed after it’s done. He doesn’t want to sit there and stare at his own sent messages.

He gets a notification buzz after only a few moments, though, and sure enough when he checks it it’s from Dean.

_Regret sleeping w/ me that much?_ Dean had texted him back. Cas feels like laughing at that, he feels light laughter rise in his chest. Only, unlike with most laughter, the light feeling in his chest is empty rather than soaring. Dean still thought he was getting messages from an old hook-up, and how right and wrong he was about that is bitterly ironic.

_Sersly tho is something up?_ Another text from Dean comes in.

Cas responds honestly as he can. _Nothing really new._

_Just more and more of the same._

Dean texts back fairly quickly: _i get that dont let it get to you._

Castiel stares at the texts for a few minutes for responding. _I think that’s the problem. I think I’ve been not letting it get to me for too long._

Castiel had made a choice, back then. It was a choice that he knew was going to hurt, that he knew was going to take sacrifices. But he had expected it to mostly just go back to the way it was before. He expected to only just lose what he had with Dean, and that alone would have been almost too much, except it didn’t. Nothing was the same.

This was true in a general sense, that the family dynamics were completely different and he was so much more alone, and true in a personal sense. _Castiel_ was completely different, after Dean. After everything he had to think about and come to terms with, after everything he felt and experienced with Dean, he couldn’t go back to the way he was before. He could no longer be unaffected by casual comments giving out judgement, sin, and guilt. He could no longer see the repressions of his freedom as a way of his family protecting him. He could only pretend.

And in order to pretend he had to close off more and more of himself. All of these things, his experiences and realizations, were more and more of a part of him and he had to shut down more and more of himself to pretend that they weren’t there. When was the last time he had a crush on someone? When was the last time he had a friend, before Meg? When was the last time he prayed, actually prayed, and meant it?

But now here, in college, here he had freedom again. Here Dean is, just like he was. Except this time he didn’t know what to do with it. His old feelings were coming back but he no longer knew what to do with them; nothing felt simple anymore, not like it used to.

How it used to be was only two years ago, but it might well have been an eternity. Castiel could turn no more turn back the clock for 10 minutes than he could for 10 centuries.

_Then F it._ The buzz in his pocket makes him jump. He checks it to find this new text from Dean, with more texts coming. _Let it get to u. What do u get from keeping it in?_

_If I let it out I have to face it._ Castiel texts back. He’s immediately unsure of this text, even as he types it. Isn’t he already facing it? Isn’t it just trickling through? _What choices do I have?_

Castiiel closes the phone with a snap after sending that last text. A wave of frustration runs through him, because apparently today he couldn’t just choose an emotion and stick to it. He quickly snaps back open his cell phone and taps in one more angry message.

_You know how my family is Dean._

Cas stares at the message after sending it. In those few seconds it had felt like the right thing to do, but those seconds were more frustration than thought. Now that he’s staring at the texts themselves they seem off to him… wait. Oh God. He did not think that through, he most certainly did not intend to do that. Maybe with a bit of luck-

A response comes.

_Cas?_

Castiel throws his phone across the room. That’s another action he doesn’t think too much about beforehand, he’s been doing too far too little as well as far too much thinking lately, but it does hit his closet on the other side of the room with a satisfying smack. It also bounces off and skids on the floor with a clatter.  

It also cracks the screen of the phone, but Castiel doesn’t at this moment have it in himself to care about that. What he does have to care about are the footsteps that come from down the hall, and the knock at the door.

The door opens, pretty soon after. Castiel’s dorm door had an optional lock, and despite being allowed and able to lock his room here, some instilled fear made him keep it unlocked.

Balthazar shoved his head through.

“Is everything alright?” He inquires. “There was just this fairly large noise.”

Castiel just points across the floor. “I dropped my phone.”

“Oh,” Balthazar says. He considers the situation, how Castiel is sitting on the floor with his phone five feet away from him. “You dropped it rather hard, I see.”

Castiel just shrugs, and continues staring in front of him. He’s mostly waiting for Balthazar to leave.

“Well.” Balthazar doesn’t retreat quite yet. “You know, Castiel, you’re the only one here who isn’t an active asshole to me.”

Castiel blinks. He isn’t completely certain if that was really a compliment.

“I’m just saying,” Balthazar continues. “If you need any help with… dropping your phone, I’m around. It would be nice for me to have someone around here to talk to, anyway.”

Castiel actually looks up at Balthazar after this offer. He knows he’s glowering, as usual, but right now it's actually out of confusion instead of his normal combination of weariness and dread.

Maybe he should thank Balthazar for the offer, but he doesn’t really feel up for talking just then. He manages a nod. It’s enough for Balthazar, apparently, who disappears and closes the door behind him.

Castiel is left in an empty room with a broken phone. He could try to play music or do homework, but instead he just crawls up into his bed to take a nap.

He can’t quite fall asleep. All he can think is that he broke it off with Dean out of a fear of ending up like Lucifer or Gabriel, but now Gabriel is fine and even Lucifer’s fate doesn’t seem as bad anymore. Could coming out (ha) with the truth, at least to people he knows won’t judge, really be worse than this?

He falls asleep with the question still rattling around in his thoughts.

After Castiel wakes up the same thought is still in his head. What if? His secrets, both being closeted and having this experience that no one besides Dean knows about, have just become harder since coming to college. He could only deal with it before because he had to, because there was no safety in his home and because he still thought he could go to hell for it. He’s no longer under the control of his parents, and the idea that he could go to hell for this no longer has bite. Castiel had to suppress parts of himself that made him unable to even pray to keep these secrets and to deal with life in his old house, and not praying would probably send him to hell just as thoroughly.

When Castiel actually thinks about... coming out to Anna, Meg, and possibly even Gabriel, he can’t really imagine it. Maybe he could build up to it, start talking to them and start trying to be open with his emotions at all. If he can let go of his fear of judgement, his fear of his secrets coming out in the open, it might actually be possible to start interacting with them again.

He doesn’t have to come out immediately, if he can just let go of keeping it secret, then maybe he can build up to it.

Talking about it means facing it and facing it... well, Castiel is certainly unwilling to do that right now, it’s terrifying. But the idea of just continuing the way he’s been, feeling half dead and not being able to stand interacting with people he cares about, is also terrifying. Something needs to change.

Castiel breathes in for a count of four, and out for another count of four. He looks at his phone, now just a dead hunk of plastic, and looks up at his alarm clock. It’s twenty minutes after midnight, but he doesn’t feel like sleeping again just yet.

He can get another phone tomorrow, and start with replying to Meg’s texts and apologizing more. With that plan in his head, small as it may be, Castiel starts to feel hopeful.

He decides that hope is too good to waste, and that he can afford to play a bit of music before sleeping the rest of the night.

If he keeps up any of his house mates, well, Bathazar would probably still be awake anyway, and as for the rest of them? That’s just too bad for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're coming to the end, here, aren't we? Not yet, definitely not yet, but soon now. Dean and Cas had definitely never had a conversation like the one in the Then section, before.
> 
> The Now chapter Cas is rapidly approaching the point of No Fucks Given. Not approaching it from the healthiest of places, but eh. We take what we can get in this life.
> 
> At this point the whole fic is written except for one Then section. I'll continue to update at the same rate.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then something terrible happened.
> 
> Now Dean comes out to his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter warnings in end notes.

##  Then

It was time for sleep, finally. Cas wished there had been time to see Dean that night, but it had been a recital night for him, and there wasn’t time. He kind of hoped that Dean would show up outside his window, but that seemed unlikely. Dean needed some sleep- and so did Castiel. Anna had already gone to bed, from the noises down the hall Gabriel was getting ready right now. Even Lucifer had managed to make it to his bedroom. Lucifer might have been drunk, or even high, that evening. He’d seemed a bit off to Castiel and Gabriel had kept giving him looks, but that was the kind of thing best not pointed out. 

It had kept Castiel on edge, but now he could relax. Lucifer was safely in his room, and Michael and Naomi were downstairs, away from him. It seemed like it could be a quiet night at last. 

Then he heard voices outside. Brief shouting, it sounded like. He closed his eyes and sent out a prayer to God that he could have just one night of peace and quiet. 

He opened his eyes again when he heard someone walk, nearly run, right the other way past his door. That seemed off. The only person out there should be his mother, and that didn’t sound like Naomi. Castiel sat up and gave the door a curious look, as though it could answer for the noises on the other side of it. 

There was talking on the other side, hushed but distinct. That itself was off. It wasn’t really time to talk, at this time of night. Even the talking itself, there was something odd about the tone. Castiel sat up as more footsteps past his door. 

There was more quiet for a few minutes, and then talking again. This time at full volume. Maybe even more than full volume, but Castiel still couldn’t quite make out what was being said. He stayed absolutely still in his bed, waiting. 

The voices got louder, and then someone started walking, toward Castiel’s room. Toward the stairs. There were two sets of footsteps. Castiel got up, and made his way to his door, and waited. After the footsteps passed him he unlocked the door and peeked out from it. 

Anna and Gabriel were walking downstairs, Anna was already on the first few steps. 

This didn’t make any sense. 

“Hello?” Castiel asked. Anna kept walking, she didn’t even seem to notice that he spoke, but Gabriel turned around. Castiel stepped back, reflexively, because Gabriel looked afraid. Not with his usual nervous grin, but with pale skin and wide eyes that weren’t even trying to hide how freaked out he was. 

“Lucifer’s not responding,” Gabriel said. Castiel didn’t understand, but Gabriel continued, “We’ve tried everything to wake him, and we can’t really tell if he’s breathing. I think he is, but- we just- he’s so cold, it’s fucking weird and-” 

“What?” Castiel asked. He didn’t really feel like he understood what Gabriel was trying to say. 

“Anna’s gone to get Mom,” Gabriel said. This didn’t make anything clearer. 

“What’s going on, Gabe?” Castiel asked. 

“I don’t know,” Gabriel said. “I guess- I mean, I don’t really know. There were some pills, so Anna thought, you know, he might have overdosed. Or something.”

“What!?” Castiel hissed. 

Gabriel opened his mouth to answer, he might’ve even found something to say, except that it was at this moment that Anna, Michael, and Naomi got to the base of the stairs. Castiel watched them, uncomprehending, as they made their way quickly up the stairs. 

“Go to bed,” Naomi ordered. 

“What?” It was Gabriel’s turn to ask. 

“Go to bed. Go to your rooms. All of you. Now.” Naomi said. “Except Michael. The situation is under control, help is on its way.” 

“But-” Anna piped up as Michael continued straight on towards Lucifer’s room. 

“It’s in God’s hands now. If you want to help your brother, then go and pray,” Naomi said. None of them moved. “I said go to your rooms!” They all just stared. “You will go to your rooms, NOW, or you will face a punishment worse than his!” 

Naomi didn’t stay to watch if her last command worked. She just started walking. Castiel looked at the other two of them, neither of whom moved, and started going slowly back into his room. Soon after there was muffled talking, audible from down the hall due to the complete silence of the rest of the house. 

Castiel started to turn to go back to his room. 

“What are you doing?” Anna asked. 

“You heard her,” Castiel said. “I don’t want to be out here when she comes back and, well, she’s right, isn’t she?” 

“Right? About what?” Anna asked.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Castiel said. 

Anna frowned at that, nearly a glare. It wasn’t really a look aimed at Castiel, though, it was more a reflection of her own internal conflict. She stopped, mouth open, before she could say anything. Castiel wondered why, but then he heard it, not a moment too soon. Footsteps. 

Despite her earlier objections, Anna ran into her room as quickly as the rest of them. Whoever walked down the hall was apparently too preoccupied to notice them. Castiel sat in the silence of his room for what felt like an eternity. 

The eternity was broken by the arrival of sirens and lights. Even with the lights of his room on, he hadn’t bothered to turn them off again, Castiel could see the red and blue flashes from outside his window. There was shouting and talking, and booted footsteps running around right outside his door. Castiel just sat and watched his door. He wondered if he should get up and look, maybe ask what was going on. He did not, though. Perhaps Anna did. 

He just sat and waited. Eventually the footsteps and talking and flashing lights faded, and left him in silence again. The urgency just outside his door had quieted, and left him with the stillness of the night. Castiel couldn’t even tell which one fit his emotions more. 

Awhile after the silence started, minutes or hours, he couldn’t tell, Castiel got up and turned the lights of his room off. He laid down in the dark and tried to sleep. He tried not to let himself think about things like, what will happen to Lucifer now? Could he die? Could that really have been real? It didn’t feel real. 

Castiel suppressed the thoughts on the surface, but he could feel them rolling around in his head like a physical weight. 

He didn’t sleep that night. 

* * *

 

##  Now

Dean stares at the phone. He can’t believe he’s going to do this. He genuinely thinks he might not do this. 

Why did he think this was a good idea, again? Really, just because Dean has admitted to himself that he’s bi doesn’t really mean he needs to share it. He could just keep it to himself and never talk about it. Ever. 

Except, an hour and a half is probably a long enough time to stare at the phone, especially when he’s not even expecting a call. Dean takes a breath. He can do it or he can’t. Either way, if he tries, he’ll be able to stop staring at the fucking phone. 

He dials the number. 

“Hey,” Sam says as soon as he picks up. 

“Hey, Sam, how you doing?” Dean asks.

“Good. Hanging out, I found some cool new supernatural series on youtube. Each one has its own mythos, it’s all pretty awesome.”

“Got your homework done, then?”

“Yes, Dean.” Sam’s eye roll somehow manages to be actually audible. “Dude, you nag almost as much as Bobby.”

“You take that back! Bobby’s got nothing on me. I nag like a pro.”

“Honestly, you’re both terrible!” Sam says. Dean just laughs. “Bobby’s been trying to get me to ask Jessica to prom. We’re only sophomores, we might not even go to prom!”

That makes Dean stop his laughter, a glorious feat of self-control. Right now advice is more needed than laughter

“You should ask her to prom.”

“We’ve onl-”

“You should totally ask her to prom.”

“Just shut up,” Sam retorts. Dean considers this an admission that he’d made his point, and decides to let it rest. “Why’d you even call, man? Just to check up?”

“...”

Dean knows why he called. He isn’t about to lie. He’s not going to back out and lie. It’s just turning out a bit hard to actually say anything right now. From the other side he can hear Sam say, “Dean, if you called for no reason you would’ve said that by now.” It’s distant, though, as Dean struggles to find the words for what he wants to say.

“Well, you know my roommate Benny? New best friend?” Dean starts.

“Yeah?” Sam asks. 

“Well, you know, turns out he’s bi. Bisexual. Dating a guy right now actually.” 

“Um.” Sam definitely wasn’t expecting that. “Okay. Are you… uncomfortable, with that, then?”

“I’m not ‘uncomfortable’ with it! Jesus Sam, have a little faith that your big brother isn’t a total asshole, okay?”

“If you don’t have a problem with it, why call to tell me this?” Sam asks. “Honestly, Dean, I’m not opposed to hearing about your friends’ love lives, it just doesn’t seem like something you’d usually bother to tell me at all.”

“Well.” Dean swallows. He doesn’t have it in him to say it outright, but he makes the bravest leap in that direction that he can. “I’m not… I mean… I’m not at all uncomfortable with it, really. It’s actually, uh, sorta the opposite? Or in the opposite direction, maybe?”

“Oh,” Sam says. “Do you… like him, then?” 

“No! I’m not attracted to Benny- I mean, he’s an attractive guy, but he’s my best friend! And he’s dating someone else!”

“Well, you’re the one who was talking about how you’re so overly comfortable with him being attracted to guys!” Sam points out. “You don’t have to be defensive to be attracted to guys, Dean, I get it.”

“Well, maybe you don’t get it,” Dean say. “Just because I’m attracted to guys doesn't mean I’m attracted to  _ every _ guy, Sammy.”

_ Wow,  _ Dean thought.  _ I can’t believe I said that out loud. I’m attracted to guys.  _ He doesn’t get too much time to ponder it, though, because Sam starts talking again.

“Soooo, you are attracted to guys?” Sam asked. “And also, I didn’t say you were. You’re the one who decided to use your roommate as an example.”

Dean took a deep breath, in and out. 

“Yeah, I am.”

“Okay,” Sam says, “Cool. Good for you. If anyone needs a wider dating pool, Dean, it’s you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Dean retorts, but he smiles as he says it. 

“Really I should’ve seen this before, shouldn’t I have?” Sam asked, mostly for himself. “I mean, no straight man likes Doctor Sexy  _ that  _ much…”

“Yeah, you really should’ve,” Dean agreed. “Kid gets a straight  A’s, think he’d be more observant.” 

“I’m unobservant? Really?” Sam asks. They’re well into teasing, now, and it doesn’t bother Dean. In fact, it’s making him that much more comfortable about the huge thing that he just said. It was the thing he wasn’t sure he’d really be able to say, and now it’s just another part of his life that he and his little bro can talk and joke about. Sam had it accepted it just like that, of course he had. Sam’s too awesome not to. “Kid lives eighteen years, think he’d realize he was into guys a bit sooner.”

“Hey, some people take even longer than that,” Dean points out. “And I never said I didn’t realize before. I  _ realized  _ awhile ago, just wasn’t quite ready to admit it.” 

“When did you realize-” Sam stops. “Oooh.” 

“What?” 

“Cas.” Sam says it like a statement in itself. “You had a crush on Cas, didn’t you?”

Dean, in some ways, knows that he can be dumb and unobservant sometimes. For instance, he hadn’t in any way foreseen Sam figuring out about that. It really does seem like a lapse in logic. After all, Sam was there. He would know Cas, he would have seen the two of them together more than anyone else. 

But still, the words, the guess, completely right but not going nearly far enough, hit Dean like a punch to the gut. The wind has been knocked out of him, and he is completely speechless. 

“Dean?” Sam asks. Dean starts to gather himself up again, but he still can’t think of any words to say.  _ Yes,  _ would be an answer, and it would be true. In its way, though,  _ no  _ would be true, too. Because it wasn’t just “a crush”.

“Dean, did you like him, then?” Sam asks again, into the silence. “Like,  _ really  _ like him?”

_ I loved him.  _

_ I love him, still, sorta, even though it’s much weirder now.  _

Dean had been so worried that he wouldn’t be able to say that he was bi or that he was attracted to guys. Now he’s figured out the words he actually can’t say. 

“Because it seemed like he liked you too.” Sam’s voice is quiet, maybe a bit concerned. Definitely absent minded, as though he’s voicing this conclusion just as he comes to it. “Wait. Were you two- did you two actually-”

Dean hangs up. 

Sam texts him, something, a few minutes after. Dean takes a few deep breaths and tries to relax before he reads them.

_ Its okay,  _ Sam texts.  _ There’ll be other guys like him.  _

Dean sighs. Suddenly he feels exhausted, like he ran a mile rather than just had a conversation. 

_ Its not that,  _ Dean texts back.  _ Cas-  _ Dean lets that word sit in the entry box for a few moments before he continues to type-  _ is here. At my school.  _

_ What?  _ Sam types back. 

_ Yeah,  _ Dean sends.  _ He’s in my english class and he texted me.  _ Dean doesn’t add that Cas also walked him home when he was drunk. Sam didn’t need to know about Dean’s drinking habits. 

_ I dont think hes doing well, sam,  _ Dean adds.  _ I think he needs some help.  _

_ You gonna help him?  _ Sam texts back.  _ What’s the problem? _

_ Thats the thing,  _ Dean says.  _ I dont know.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for drug and drug overdose mention in the "Then" section.
> 
> \------
> 
> Here we are. Thanks for sticking through with me so far. I'm not sure what to say to all the comments I've been getting, but honestly they're all giving me life. <3 Thank you all! 
> 
> Things are going well for Dean, but Cas is in a precarious situation, in the "Now" section. The "Then" sections are going to be painful from here on out, but we knew from the beginning that the story back Then would end badly.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas and Gabriel visited their brother in the hospital.
> 
> Now a random search of Castiel’s room goes where no one expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobia in the "Now" section.

##  Then

Castiel keyed a few contextless notes on the piano. He and Gabriel were in the music room downstairs, where they both tried and failed to concentrate on their task at hand. Castiel would’ve gone up to his room and played a different instrument, but he didn’t feel like being alone in a room by himself. If Gabriel left he would leave, except, for reasons completely unknown to Castiel, Gabriel didn’t leave. He stayed down here and wrote in a notebook, whether for school or for himself Castiel didn’t know. 

Castiel’s phone buzzed from his pocket. He ignored it. 

Outside of the room their mother and their uncle were talking. The two apparently didn’t care about being overheard, didn’t think it would matter if Castiel or his siblings heard what they were saying. 

They were discussing how much financial support they’d provide Lucifer after he got out of the hospital. 

“Honestly, it’s a wonder you even paid for all that- why not just leave him to his debt?” Zachariah asked.

“I considered it, for a moment, but he is my son. I couldn’t just let him die,” Naomi explained. 

“You can’t make his choices for him. He will be judged by God on the basis of his own character, and you can pay the doctors to save him, but you can’t save him from hell.” 

“I know.” Naomi sighs. Castiel can hear how worn her voice is, and doesn’t know how to feel about that. 

“This is the last of it, anyway. If he can’t follow the basic rules of this family then he can’t be a part of it. After this-” The door slammed shut, cutting off their voices.

Castiel looked over to see Gabriel standing in front of the closed door. Gabriel didn’t turn around, but he did start to speak.

“I know where Lucifer is. We could go visit him,” Gabriel said. 

“What?” Castiel asked.

“Anna was the one who found him. She already visited him.” This didn’t really answer Castiel’s question. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“I think you have the right, you know, to see him. He’s your brother too.” Gabriel paused. “I don’t want to go alone, little bro.” 

Castiel nodded, slowly. He could understand. He still felt uncertain, but his world has been spinning for awhile. He could deal with this.

“I’ll go,” Castiel offered. 

“Cool,” Gabriel said, like it was nothing but lunch plans. But there was much more behind his tone than that. 

It was two days later that it actually happened. Gabriel found Castiel after school, a school day in which Cas managed to feel even more detached and isolated than usual, and they both walked to the bus station. They had to pay for a bus ride to get there, but it didn’t matter. They would probably get in trouble for this, too, but that didn’t really seem to matter either. 

They were both completely silent on the way there. It was one of the longest trips of Castiel’s life. He could usually sink into silence, but this wasn’t a peaceful silence. There was too much left distinctly unsaid in that silence. There was an ad for an energy firm and a lawyer on the bus, across from where Castiel sat. Castiel spent equal times trying to memorize the ads as the seats across from them. He wanted to look at the small details, use them to forget where he was. 

From the bus stop it was half a block to the hospital. They walked it, again, in silence. At this point the reality of what was happening was sinking in on Castiel, and with it the anxiety was coming. He really couldn’t imagine what they would find. He tried to conjure up an image, a picture, an idea- it was just a blank. He could think of a hospital room, like the ones in “Dr. Sexy”, but he couldn’t picture Lucifer in one. He just couldn’t imagine Lucifer lying down in the bed. He could maybe try to put together the idea of Lucifer standing in or visiting a hospital, but Lucifer, incapacitated in a hospital bed? He couldn’t see it. 

When they get there Castiel followed Gabriel in. Castiel followed, then stood next to Gabriel like a lost dog. Gabriel asked at the desk about the room, and gave some excuse or explanation about the two of them visiting. It might have even been the truth, Castiel wasn’t listening. Gabriel got some sort of information, something about “intensive care”, and a blond nurse as a guide, and he set off, with just a nod to Castiel. 

They walked through a seemingly endless set of hallways, and went through an elevator ride. The floor Lucifer was on seemed to be busy. Castiel didn’t really take notice of the surroundings, he was reaching new levels of detachment with each set, but he understood the feeling of business around them. The nurse kept walking at a constant pace, so Castiel kept following her and Gabriel. He could just move without paying any real attention to where they were. 

Gabriel had to actually put a hand out and stop Castiel from just walking past Lucifer’s room. 

“This is it,” Gabriel said. Castiel looked over at a white door labeled “501”. He blinked and looked back at Gabriel. Gabriel gave him a nervous glance and took a deep breath in and out. As the nurse reached out and opened the door Castiel got his first real, distinct thought since coming into the hospital. 

_ I don’t want to be here.  _ Even when Gabriel asked, Castiel hadn’t really wanted to come here. He’d only done it because he knew that Gabriel had wanted him to.

The thought breaks through Castiel’s detachment from any emotion with a spike of shame. He hadn’t wanted to come here, he hadn’t wanted to see his brother, and he hadn’t really cared if his brother had wanted to see him. Was he really any better than Zachariah, back home saying that they’d done more than they were obliged to do? Wasn’t Castiel just as willing to leave Lucifer as any of them were? 

Castiel didn’t have any more time to think before it was time for he and Gabriel to enter. 

The room didn’t match anything out in “Doctor Sexy”.

In “Doctor Sexy” everything was simple and clear. People had IV drips and maybe, if they were really sick, tubes to help them breathe. They couldn’t convey the feeling of it, though. In TV you always knew, at some level, that it was all props. In TV you would pretend it was real to be emotionally invested, yet know on some level that it was fake. Here Castiel felt almost the opposite- what he was seeing right now was, on a surface level, so much more unreal than TV. The fact that it was Lucifer in that bed, pale and hooked up to monitors, couldn’t seem real, yet on some level Castiel knew that it was. His mouth was dry, he wanted to cry but no tears were coming.

The nurse was saying something, but Castiel really couldn’t hear anything anymore. Lucifer looked pale, he looked dead, and only the seeming mass of wired monitors said anything differently. It was easy to think that Lucifer would be dead- after all, wouldn’t he be dead to the family after this? But he wasn’t. 

Castiel stared at Lucifer, still and so seemingly empty, and had to think that Lucifer wasn’t dead. He would wake up. But what would he wake up to? The thought of waking up to an empty room full of wires, at best case with a stranger, was terrifying. It was like hell. 

Maybe Lucifer wouldn’t even have to wait until death to go to hell. Maybe he’d wake up here, alone and in a room full of strangers, and a hospital bill his family could but wouldn’t pay. Maybe hell was real, and God would provide it for them here on Earth. 

Castiel turned away. He felt nauseous. 

“I want to leave,” he said. “I need to leave.” 

He was expecting Gabriel to object, but he didn’t. 

“Yeah,” Gabriel agreed. Castiel couldn’t read his tone. Events had set Castiel at his limits, and he couldn’t imagine what was going on in Gabriel’s head right now. “Let’s go.” 

Castiel didn’t remember how they left and got home, only that they did. They were home late, and Naomi scolded them. They didn’t have any dinner that night, and Anna, as the gang leader, had to stay downstairs and face more punishment. Castiel could hear the yelling from his room, as usual. The arguments that meant so much more and so much less right now. 

Naomi had checked their phones and pockets. Castiel was glad that he’d deleted Dean’s texts earlier that day.

He always hed to delete Dean’s texts, he just memorized his number, but usually he responded to them first. This time he didn’t bother. 

There had been six texts. They started out with a funny thought about one of Dean’s teachers and a check up question.  _ Howre u? _

They got more concerned when Castiel hadn’t responded. 

_ Anything wrong???? _

_ Cas??????????? _

_ Pls respond _

* * *

##  Now

“Now, Castiel, you consented to room searches when you signed up for this housing,” Uriel explains. 

“I’m not refusing.” Castiel pulls his door open more to emphasize this fact. “I’m just asking why. Have I done something wrong?” This last question has too much edge to it to be innocent, but Castiel is doing the best he can. 

“It’s randomly selected,” Alastair says. Of course. Castiel can see the truth in his face, in the curve of his smile, and, especially, in the way he just said that. This isn’t a random selection, it’s a small, petty revenge on Alastair’s part. Well. 

“Fine, then.” Castiel steps back from the door and opens his arms, gesturing around his closet or a room. “Knock yourselves out. Not literally, of course.” He smiles at Alastair, who frowns and narrows his eyes. For his own part Uriel seems not to notice. 

“Ha ha,” Uriel states dryly. “Of course. Do leave the family humor to other members, please, Castiel.” 

Castiel shrugs. Something feels a bit different ever since he broke his phone duringhis most recent texting spree with Dean. He doesn’t care nearly as much about what Uriel and Alastair could do. 

They start ruffling through his belongings, and not being careful about it, either. Alastair, especially. Right now he’s dumping Castiel’s backpack out onto his floor. Castiel fiddles with his new phone, trying to compose a text to Anna to at least start the conversation that could mention that Castiel had... dated before. He tries to ignore the “search”, but after Alastair manages to completely remove his desk drawer and let it fall to the floor with a “thud!” Castiel had just about had it. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know that searching my belongings meants wrecking my belongings,” Castiel says. Uriel stops and turns toward him, but Alastair just keeps going. 

“We’re not about to damage anything valuable, now, Castiel,” Uriel assures him. 

“How exactly do you determine what’s- do not touch that!” Alastair had been reaching for his violin case. 

“My instruments are  _ not  _ available for search,” Castiel snaps. 

“This search is supposed to be thorough, we can’t just leave you these hollow, obvious hiding spots,” Alastair says. He gestures to Castiel’s violin and guitar, both over by his bed. 

“Fine.” Castiel shoves Alastair away. “I’ll go through them, and you can watch.” 

Castiel picks up the violin, still in its case, and starts taking it out and going through it. He emphasizes each movement and then gestures to what he’s done after he makes each more. It’s the most sarcastic way he can think to do it, as though Uriel couldn’t perceive the most basic things in front of his own eyes. Uriel glowers at him. Castiel raises his eyebrows and presses his mouth into a thin line, as if to say, “what did you expect?”

He’s so engaged in taunting Uriel that he makes no note of what Alastair’s doing. 

This is a very large mistake. 

“What’s this?” Alastair asks, loudly, from behind them. Castiel and Uriel both turn around, to see him pulling an envelope out of the bottom of Castiel’s sock drawer. 

Oh no. How could Castiel have forgotten about that? He didn’t even notice Alastair going through his drawer. 

Castiel says the first thing that comes to mind. 

“It’s personal, and it’s mine.” He takes a few steps toward Alastair, ready to take it out of his hands, but Alastair backs up and holds the letter in the air. Castiel stops. He knows he probably can’t physically force Alastair to give him the letter, and it’s not like he has any allies here to help him. 

“Personal? What kind of personal, then?” Alastair asks. “I’m certain no one from your family would mind us taking a quick look at it, and if it’s not from your family, then what is it, Castiel?”

“What exactly do you expect it to be?” Castiel asks. Really he should be more frightened than he is, but he’s not. He doesn’t know if it’s because it hasn’t really sunk in yet what’s happening, if it’s because his conviction from the other night has freed him of any fear of these two, or because he has just had it. “It’s in a tiny envelope.”

“It could be pornography,” Alastair provides. Castiel stares at him, both eyebrows raised. 

“‘Pornography’?” Castiel repreats. “Really? You think I have a tiny envelope of porn? I can sincerely assure you, I would not bother.”

“Does that mean you would bother if it were a lot of pornagraphy?” Uriel questions. Of course he’s siding with Alastair on this. 

“With the internet in existence?” Cas asks. “I doubt it.”

Alastair and Uriel both stare at him like he’d grown another head. Castiel could be dry sometimes, but that was a level of sarcasm they’d previously only gotten from Balthazar. Castiel himself finds it a bit unbelievable that he’s willing to say it. 

Castiel sighs. 

“It’s not porngarphay,” Castiel says. “There’s nothing bad in that envelope.” He meant it. The two of them might disagree with him if they knew, but he meant it.

“Well, if there’s nothing bad, then you wouldn’t mind us checking it out, now would you?” Alastair asks. He smiles at Castiel, and it’s a truly nasty smile. 

Castiel blinks at him, trying to think of a response. Maybe he should be defiant, to tell them to just knock themselves out, but he’s not that fearless yet. He can feel his heart rate increase, and he has to put conscious effort into trying to keep his breathing even. There’s a funny feeling in his stomach, and it’s not the good kind. 

“I,” Castiel says. That’s all he can come up with. “I do not want you to check it out. It’s mine.”

“Unless you have a better reason than that, well...” Alastair pulls the envelope open and sticks his hand in. 

On a desperate impulse Castiel grabs at the envelope, and he manages to rip off the outside. Alastair gets the strip of photographs within, though. 

Alastair immediately flips it over, and stares at the photographs. He blinks a couple of times, and then glances up at Castiel, then looks back at the photos. Uriel leans over next to him to get a look at them. 

“Oh my,” Uriel murmurs. Castiel is absolutely frozen. 

“Is that  _ you  _ and... a boy?” Alastair asks. He smiles again, this time his smile is more than nasty, it’s vindictive and vindicated. “‘Nothing bad’, huh?” 

“Oh, Castiel,” Uriel says. “What are we going to do about this?”

It takes those smarmy, sneering comments for Castiel to get his tongue back. 

“What  _ are  _ you going to do about it, Uriel?” Castiel asks. “Go blather on to my mother, like you always do? Stand there and suppress your grin like you aren’t already thinking about how you can use this to scrape up any more power you can get? Go back in time and ask me not to kiss him?” 

It takes a few moments of gobsmacked silence for Uriel to get  _ his  _ tongue back after this. 

“Well, with something like this, something this-” Uriel gestures angrily, “we’ll obviously have to ask you to denounce it. Though God only knows if your mother will accept only that, it’s a place to start, denouncing your sins. It might be easier if he seduced you into sin, however… as long as you willingly com back to the light now, of course.” 

“My  _ sins?”  _ Castiel repeats. “It was a kiss, and I won’t denounce it. I won’t denounce it, and I will not lie about him. He ‘seduced me’ into nothing.”

“You know you’re only making it worse for yourself, long-term, right?” Alastair asks him. “People like you who cling to their sin, well-”

“I am not a sinner.” Castiel pulls himself up, tall and straight-backed as he could be. “I want my photos back.”

“You want them  _ back _ ?” Uriel asks. Alastair laughs, and Castiel gives them both the most deadly glare he can muster. “Surely you know we cannot allow things like this in this house-”

“Then don’t,” Castiel says curtly. Right then and there he realizes what he has to do. “I’m leaving. I’ll pack now. Get out.”

“ _ What? _ ” Uriel asks. He looks, yet again, truly stunned. This time Castiel can actually appreciate the expression. Castiel takes advantage of Alastair’s surprise to snatch the photo strip out of his hand as quickly as he can. 

“Hey!” Alastair yells. Castiel shoves it in his pocket, and hurries back across his room to grab his instruments. He starts packing up his violin again, as quickly as he can, as Alastair sputters indignantly behind him. 

“You can’t do this!” Uriel shouts. 

“Oh, so you’ll let me keep my pictures and stay, then?” Cas looks back to ask him. 

“No, but if you’d just give them up and-” 

“I’m going.” Castiel turns back to his packing, setting his packed violin and guitar on the bed. He starts glancing around for his backpack. 

“Castiel, think for a moment,” Uriel starts speaking behind him. Alastair just tries to glare holes into Castiel with squinted eyes. “What will your mother say? What will she do? Do you really think she can afford to lose another son?” 

That makes Castiel stop. He looks up and around at Uriel, and tries to formulate something to say. 

“Fuck you.” Good enough. Satisfying, too. Castiel scoops his backpack off the ground and starts shoving all his textbooks and notebooks back into it. How will he pack up his clothes? 

“Castiel, you are obviously not thinking clearly,” Uriel tries again. “I’m not sure your mother would want you to leave in this state.”

“Yeah,” Alastair chips in. “Maybe it would be the best to just... stay here.” 

Uriel might just be patronizing, but there’s a real threat of physical violence in Alastair’s tone. Castiel doesn’t at all put it past Alastair to get physical and claim that he thought it was necessary. Whether or not anyone would believe Alastair doesn’t really matter at this point. 

He doesn’t need clothes, he can come back for them. Maybe. It doesn’t really matter. 

Castiel pulls his backpack on one shoulder and the violin on the other. He hugs his violin to his chest and spins around as quickly as he can. Alastair lunges, but Castiel has already started bolting for the door. Alastair manages to pull an arm loose, but ultimately crashes into Castiel’s bed. 

Castiel stumbles out his door and nearly runs head first into Balthazar. 

“I hear shouting, and then...” Balthazar crams his head trying to look behind Cas. “What was that?” 

Castiel just blinks at him, and then pushes past him. The most important thing right now is getting out. 

“Hey, hey,” Balthazar starts following, quickening his pace to keep up. “Is something wrong?”

“I need to leave.”

“Like for a trip, or...?” Balthazar asks. Castiel spares one moment to just  _ look  _ back at him. At this point they’re actually walking out of the house, and Balthazar is following him into the street. 

“Castiel, what happened?” Balthazar asks. Castiel takes a few deep breaths, and considers. He might just need all the help he can get right now. 

“I’ll tell you as we walk,” Castiel says. 

“Where are we going?” Balthazar asks. 

Good question, Castiel hadn’t considered that. “For now?” Castiel clarifies. “Away from here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, shit is getting Real Now. God, the "Now" section was so great to write. To be honest part of my motivation was being able to write a "Fuck you" coming out scene. You so rarely get that satisfaction, in real life or fiction, to get to just get past and say fuck you to all the homophobic people in your life (especially when the homophobia is subtle). So, anyway, I just found it emotionally satisfying to write that scene. Of course now Cas is going to deal with the consequences, but maybe they won't be too bad.
> 
> It was hard to write the "Then" scene, though.


	35. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Gabriel left a note for Cas, and Castiel comes to a decision.
> 
> Now Castiel has to gather himself after leaving his old dorm behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for internalized homophobia in the "Then" section.

## Then

When they gathered the whole family together just a day after Gabriel and Castiel’s hospital visit, Castiel’s first thought was that they had found out about the visit somehow. Zachariah called them all down to sit, awkwardly and formally, around the dining room table. Next to Zachariah sat their mother, a glass of wine and an open bottle next to her, her head in one hand.

Castiel’s heartbeat crawled up to his throat. He was certain Zachariah would take one look at him and see the guilt written all over his face. Guilt for his illicit hospital visit yesterday, guilt for his relationship with Dean, guilt for every petty failure in self-control in his life, guilt for merely existing in a state so obviously wrong.

Yet Father Zachariah’s eyes passed over him easily, not seeming to mark his or Gabriel’s face. Zachariah himself actually seemed old at that moment, not quite completely the infallible figure he’d always presented himself as to the people of his congregation. That should have been reassuring to Castiel as this moment, that Zachariah didn’t have the same aura of almost magic authority as he usually did, but it was just more unsettling.

“Sit down,” Zachariah said. Michael was the first to take a seat. He had been called down along with the rest of them, sitting primly in his seat as though being proper would make them all seem right. The rest of them filed awkwardly after him.

Their mother didn’t look up. Zachariah started to speak again.

“I’m afraid there isn’t an easy way to say this,” Zachariah started. “Perhaps you should take a moment to yourselves, and remember that God is with you whenever you need Him.” Castiel caught Anna and Gabriel giving each other questioning glances.

Zachariah continued, “We got a call from the hospital half an hour ago.” At this Castiel and Gabriel exchanged quick, panicked glances. They looked quickly back to their uncle. “I’m afraid I have some very heavy news. God has decided to take your brother back.”

The news first met with absolute silence as all the siblings puzzled through what Zachariah was saying. Michael was the first to speak.

“No, that’s not- that can’t be true!” he said. “Maybe there was some sort of mistake. Lucifer had made a very bad mistake, but he isn’t dead-“

“Yeah, that’s bullshit!” Gabriel chimed in.

"Gabriel!” Zachariah said, warning in his voice. “I know this may be hard for you, but Lucifer has passed on. We have to trust in God’s decisions, now more than ever. Your mother and I were just discussing funeral arrangements when we realized it would be better to break the news to you sooner.”

“Funeral arrangements?” Michael repeated. His voice was comically squeaky, but Gabriel ignored the opportunity to make any sort of joke.

“Yes, your brother needs a proper Novak funeral,” Zachariah said. “We need not mention his cause of death, we’ll just be explaining that there was an unexpected accident-“

“An accident?” Anna spoke up this time. “You’re going to lie about his death to make yourselves look better?”

“Giving him dignity in death is not making ourselves look better!” Zachariah said. “Now, I understand you all have been through a shock, and I’m willing to make allowances, but you must look to God in this dark time, not your own insolence! Do you all have any more comments?”

No one said anything this time.

“Good,” Zachariah said. “Now, we’ll have to arrange the funeral at a good time for your father to come down-“

“No,” Naomi finally said something, the first noise she had made through the entire conversation. “No.”

“What?” Zachariah turned back to her.

“I said no,” Naomi sat up this time. “He left our son for me to raise. He left him and he doesn’t get to claim Lucifer now in death.”

“I-“ Zachariah started, drawing himself up. Then he paused, and glanced back across the table at all the siblings staring wide-eyed at him and their mother. “All of you go upstairs. Now.”

They all filed away quickly.

As they were going upstairs, yelling started up downstairs. It was familiar, yet so strange without Lucifer’s voice in the mix.

Castiel closed the door to his room and threw himself on the bed. Later that night Gabriel came by, knocking at his door, but Castiel ignored him. He wanted to ignore the entire world, because it was all wrong and he couldn’t let it in.

Eventually Gabriel left.

Castiel barely perceived the next day. He went on full autopilot. Jesus could have appeared that day in front of Castiel and declared that there would be another New Testament and this one would be written in grape soda, and Castiel wouldn’t have said anything more than, “Okay.”

By the time he got home from school he couldn’t even remember what had happened at school. Each moment passed by so slowly yet the hours were nothing. Michael drove him home from school in silence. Anna and Gabriel had refused to go to school that day, but Cas had felt an aimless urge to do something, and didn’t think he could take either staying home alone that day or calling Dean to try to explain what had happened.

When they arrived home and pulled into the garage they could hear some commotion going on inside the house. Castiel couldn’t even really register what it was, but Michael went to help. Or at least that’s what he thought Michael went to do. He either didn’t bother telling Castiel, or he did but Castiel didn’t realize. Either way was fine. Castiel just wanted to go up to his room and play music until he didn’t even know what he was playing and couldn’t feel his fingers. But when he walked past the front room on his way to the stairs he had to stop and stare for a moment.

His mother and Zachariah were fighting again. That had never happened before.

His mother was crying. She was sitting on the couch crying, Michael sitting awkwardly next to her, hands curled in on himself like he didn’t know what to do for once. Castiel couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen her cry. It was possible he never had. She was crying, but still screaming back at Zachariah after he yelled at her. Castiel stood and watched them, feeling like he was watching two mountains get into a fistfight. It was watching the world go crazy in huge, terrifying ways that he could do nothing about.

“I have lost two of my sons, and you would have the audacity to blame it on me!?” Naomi yelled. “You were their spiritual leader, their priest! You have failed them, and so you have failed me!”

“I am not saying it was you! Can’t you listen, woman!?” Zachariah shouted right back. “I am saying that what they needed was a _fatherly influence_ so maybe if you tried to appease my brother a bit more so he would stay-”

“He left because he is a wreck as a father and as a husband!”

None of this was right. Those two should be putting up a unified front against Lucifer. It shouldn’t be them screaming at each other about whatever it was they were screaming about, either parenting or Castiel’s father. He wasn’t sure what it was about and that didn’t matter. They were the force that had created the terms of Castiel’s life and now that was all just broken.

Maybe it had always been broken, though, and Lucifer’s death had just released whatever was holding it all together.

Castiel suddenly found that he could not stand by and watch this for a moment more, so he turned to make his way upstairs. He didn’t think either of them would notice whether he stayed or went.

When Castiel got up to his room he shut his bedroom door firmly behind him, trying to block out the wrongness that had overtaken the world. He wanted to collapse against his door, but he knew that if he did that he would start crying and the wrongness would catch up with him, so he didn’t. He just walked over to the side of his bed and sat down. He stared at the wall for several long moments. He could still hear yelling from downstairs, but it was muffled enough that he could just tune it out and pretend that it was alright.

He felt worse about the fighting going on downstairs than Lucifer’s death, and he felt oddly guilty about that. He wasn’t- he hadn’t been close with Lucifer at all, but he was his brother, right? He should feel sadness at the loss or something. But besides the wrongness, all Castiel felt was guilt.

He’d never stood up for Lucifer, like Anneal sometimes did, or stood with him, as Gabriel had very occasionally done in the past. He’d never given him a hard time either, like Michael had, but that almost made it worse. At least Michael was trying to help him, get him back and stop him from going to hell. Lucifer didn’t like it, but at least Michael was trying because Lucifer meant something to him. Before Lucifer had started getting involved with people their parents didn’t like and stopped getting good grades he and Michael had been a pair. Michael, Anna, Gabriel- they had all tried to help him in their own ways. What had Castiel done? Nothing.

He had done nothing and now Lucifer was dead. Maybe he could have tried to talk to him, make him see that their mother was just- just worried and tired and still loved him. That she was just trapped like the rest of them and it wasn’t any reason for Lucifer to turn to drugs.

Maybe that would have made things worse, but Lucifer was dead. How could things be worse?

Castiel pulled himself around to curl up on his bed. He felt nauseous but at least he wasn’t crying yet, he was just empty and guilty. When he laid down he felt something crunch under him, and he sat back up.

There was something on his bed, a note on a folded up sheet of paper. He turned it over and found the words _To My Best Little Brother_ written on the back. It was from Gabriel, obviously, that was his writing and the words were a joke about Castiel being his only younger brother.

Castiel opened it up. It started with an apology.

_Hey Cassie,_

_I’m sorry. I really want to do this, I thought I’d be there for you when you finished high school and that we’d all get out of this house together. I realized that was a lie. We’re not even all getting out of that house at all._

_I’m so sorry, I should be a better older brother and be there for you, but I can’t. You’ll be okay, right? You always have been. You never seemed to let any of it get to you._

_Shit, I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to justify what I’m about to do. I know it’ll be shitty for you, but I can’t stay there any more._ ~~_Fuck, this is like the third time I’ve written this letter, and I still can’t even manage to make it FUCKING coherent._ ~~

_Don’t worry about the swearing, Uncle Zach-ass can’t punish me for it anymore. That’s what I’m trying to say with this letter,_ ~~_I just can’t get it with the words_ ~~ _. I’m leaving. I don’t want to leave you, but I can’t stay in that house anymore. I just can’t. Everytime I look at them, at our uncle and either of our parents I just think about how they killed Lucifer._

_And they did kill him, you know? They didn’t actually force the drugs in him that made him overdose, but they did kill him. I think you and Anna and Micheal, you’ll all be safe, but I have to leave._

_I know I’m breaking my promise,_ ~~_but does that really matter anymore? If I’m going to hell it’s for way more than that_ ~~ _~~.~~ This is a terrible goodbye. I would be angry if I were you, but maybe you won’t be. You surprise me sometimes. _

_Please, little bro, just stay safe. Alright? You can make it through._

~~_Goodbye,_ ~~

_Love you,_

_Gabe_

Castiel had to read it twice to understand what it was saying. Gabriel was leaving. Gabriel was running away.

This is when Castiel started crying. Gabriel was leaving, Gabriel had probably already left. He was the sibling Cas was closest too, the one who checked on him most, The one who had promised to be there for him.

Where would he even go? Did he even have a plan?

Would he end up staying in some motel like Dean and Sam, but without even a sibling to keep him company?

Would he die out there, on the streets, overdose like Lucifer?

Tears were raining down Castiel’s face, over Gabriel and Lucifer and everything. He suddenly remembered what his mother had been saying downstairs, _I have lost two of my sons._ Gabriel was gone, now, too.

Was this what happened when someone was disobedient? They died, and took others with them?

There had been warning after warning from Father Zachariah about what would happen to Lucifer if he continued the path he was on, but Castiel never thought anything would actually happen. None of them thought anything would actually happen.

Maybe Gabriel was right, and their family drove Lucifer to it, but Lucifer took up the drugs himself. He did what he was warned against and now he was dead, without any chance to confess or make anything better-

Now his brother was in hell, Castiel realized. His whole family had failed to be good, and now they were all being punished. What else could this be? Why else would this happen?

If what Gabriel said was right and their family was just horrible until Lucifer’s methods of coping killed him, or until Lucifer actually killed himself, then there was no justice in this world. That couldn’t be right.

What if this was what happened to Lucifer and Gabriel and all of them, really, for not being properly obedient and good?

What if something like this happened to Dean because of what Cas was doing with him?

_No_ , Cas thought. _No no no no no_. Everything had felt right, except he and Dean always knew bad things were coming. They were never meant to be together, no one had wanted them to be, but they had been anyway. What if something like this happened to Dean, and Castiel had caused it and done nothing to prevent it? Cas shuddered.

Usually Cas would talk to Dean about something like this, except he didn’t think he had it in him to explain any of this. He couldn’t explain his family, Dean would never be able to understand his family anyway, or any of this. Cas didn’t even understand it himself.

There was only one thing to do, except everyone was already gone and Cas didn’t want to lose Dean too.

Castiel curled up on his bed, Gabriel’s note still crushed in one hand, and cried. Sobbed and sobbed and no one was there.

He heard footsteps outside the door and thought Anna came by, but she didn’t come in. Maybe she thought he would want to cry privately, and he sort of did. Everything was out of control, everything was broken and too much and Cas didn’t want any more of this but the only thing he could try to do to prevent it was to try to be good and obedient again.

Except that meant breaking up with Dean.

Nothing was right.

Castiel’s refusal to cry before then had been right, crying did let all of the wrongness of world in, but he didn’t think he could stop it. He hurt and it felt both almost physical and worse than physical pain.

He cried until it was just shuddering and dry sobbing.

He didn’t move even after that.

His mother came by his room, said something about how Zachariah was finally backing off and that it would be a long time before their father ever came by again, and left again when Castiel said nothing in response.

He hadn’t done anything for Lucifer and now Lucifer was dead. He had to do something. He had to stop being immoral or else more bad things would happen. That’s what he’d been taught all his life, and he just wanted all these things to stop.

Castiel responded to all of Dean’s messages, finally, and asked Dean to meet him.

He had to do this.

* * *

## Now

“I guess you don’t have to tell me what happened, but then I’d probably hear Uriel and Alastair’s version of it anyway,” Balthazar remarks. He’s still walking alongside Castiel. “I’m not sure where you’re going, but you might get there faster if you’d let me carry something. A violin, a guitar, and a backpack is kind of a full load-”

Castiel stops, abruptly. His blinks a couple times and fiddles with his fingers as he tries to bring together his scattered thoughts. He’s out of his old dorm house and, he glances back, they haven’t followed them. He’s okay. They might try to call him, his mother included, but they probably won’t be able to find him- wait.

Castiel starts pulling his new phone out of his pocket.

“Do you think they’d be able to track my cell phone?” He asks Balthazar.

“Those two?” Balthazar scoffs. “No way, they’d have to hack into your account-”

“Not those two,” Castiel says. “My family, my mother. They pay my phone bills, and even though it’s a new phone they know about it. Do you think they’d be able to track it?”

“Well, I don’t really know, I guess that might be possible- woah!” Balthazar grabs the arm Castiel had just pulled back, the one holding the phone. “Are you going to throw your phone!?”

“Yes.” Castiel blinks. “I thought that was clear. They could track it.”

“Jesus, Cassie, what happened?” Balthazar asks. The use of the old nickname, one that Castiel is almost certain Balthazar doesn't know the history of, makes Castiel finally register that Balthazar is actually there, in a way he was too panicked to understand before.

“Why are you helping me?” Castiel asks. “I may not have been cruel to you, but it’s not like I ever stood up for you.”

“Yes, but I can’t exactly be mad at you for that, not when you never stood up for yourself either,” Balthazar explains. “And, honestly, they treated you worse than they treated me. You sorta let them- not that I’m blaming you or anything, it’s fairly clear you had some good reasons,” Balthazar gestures at Castiel’s bags, “but it’s true. I actually, well, felt a bit shitty for not standing up for you more often.” Castiel blinks at him. He’d never considered that.

“You don’t have to-” Castiel starts, but Balthazar cuts in.

“I know, but I like to think of myself as a fairly decent man,” Balthazar says. “One who’d actually help someone in bad predicament, like you obviously are.”

“Oh-kay,” Castiel says. He has no reason not to believe Balthazar, but some part of him still feels suspicious. It seems odd for anyone to just help him.

“So if you’ll just tell me what happened, I can get your bag and see if I can help find you a place to stay,” Balthazar says. “Oh, and I can get your phone, too, I’ll just bring it back with me or something. No sense destroying it.”

“Oh.” Castiel says. He offers Balthazar his guitar off his shoulder. “Um, that would be nice. Thank you.”

Balthazar takes the bag, and Castiel starts thinking.

“So what happened?” Balthazar asks, and Castiel is snapped out of his thoughts.

“Well.” Castiel isn’t sure how to phrase this. He’s never actually come out to anyone before, unless he counts Dean, and that’s not really something he thought of as ‘coming out’. “I’m sorta- I mean. Um. Well. Alastair and Uriel decided to do a ‘random’ search on my room, only it wasn’t really random, you know, Alastair just has a grudge against me- So anyway, yeah. They found this, um, envelope, I have, of photos. In my sock drawer.”

“Photos?” Balthazar asks. “Like,” he frowns and waggles his eyebrows, “sexy photos?”

“No!” Castiel answers. “No, uh, they were- well- here.” Castiel reaches into his pockets. “I’ll show you.” He offers the little photo strip to Balthazar, who takes it carefully.

“Oh,” Balthazar says. “Ah.” It’s similar to what Uriel had said, but the tone was different. “Yeah, I could see how they wouldn’t like this.” Balthazar offers back the photos. “Are you okay, then? They didn't hurt you or anything, right?”

Castiel smiles at the concern. “No, they didn’t hurt me.”

“Do you have somewhere to go?” Balthazar asks. “Any financial support, aside from your family?”

“I- yes,” Castiel considers. “I have a scholarship. And some of my siblings might help, I have a brother who's estranged from the family.”

“Okay, so, can you get into contact with him?” Balthazar asks.

“Well, I don’t have his number, but I know where I can find him,” Castiel explains. “‘The Trickster’s Den’.”

“The club?” Balthazar asks. Whatever Balthazar had been expecting Cas to say, it certainly wasn’t that. Today seemed to be the day for Castiel to shock everyone.

“Yeah,” Castiel says. “He owns it.”

They turn Castiel’s phone off before they start off. When they get to the club it hasn't opened yet, but after a few seconds knocking on the door someone answers.

“We’re closed,” Kali says as she answers the door. Then she sees who it is. “Oh. Loki’s brother, right? He’s in the back.”

As she lets them in, Castiel can hear Balthazar murmur, “Loki’s _brother?_ What the fuck.”

The club is transformed in the daytime. Daylight manages to squeeze in through small windows near the ceiling, despite the windows being painted over. The atmosphere of the place is completely different: quiet as a music studio, and even the stained floor and graffitied walls look transformed by the tenebrous natural lighting. This is a place that, Castiel is surprised to think, he could actually spend time in.

Gabriel’s in the back, as he was before. Only this time he has papers spread about across his lap, papers he’s staring at. He’s hunched over with one hand on his forehead. He looks at least mildly stressed, and rather tired. He looked a far cry from the man on the posters outside the building.

He looks up when they approach, and then straightens up. He meets Castiel’s eyes, his face unreadable.

“I didn’t know if you’d be coming back by here,” Gabriel breaks the silence first.

“I had to, actually,” Castiel explains. “I was…”

“Kicked out,” Balthazar provides. Accurate enough. Castiel nods.

“What?” Gabriel asks. He doesn’t look as surprised as Balthazar, Uriel, or Alastair had been earlier that day. At least not yet. Castiel figures he might as well change that.

“Yes,” Castiel says. “Kicked out. Because I’m gay.”

_There’s_ the surprise to match the others.

Gabriel stares for a few seconds, then he slowly starts to nod. It’s like he had to shut down for a moment before he could even begin to process what Cas had just said. His expression makes it look like he’d just been asked to describe a food he hadn’t actually tasted yet. He continues to nod, finishing whatever mental calculation Cas had just provided for him, and his expression begins to clear.

“...okay,” Gabriel says. “Okay, I’ve just- you’ve just re-written a ton family history for me here, little bro, but that’s all fine. It’s all good.” He blinks and looks Cas in the eye. “You know that I don’t care, right? I mean, I care, but in a loving, supportive sense and I know how hard it is.”

“You do?” Castiel asks coldly.

Gabriel sighs. “I may not know your personal struggles, but you’re not the only queer kid our parents had, Cassie. I happen to be pan. I also have some weirdness with gender, but this probably isn’t the time for that.”

It’s Castiel’s turn to be surprised, but not for very long. “That’s why that woman assumed we were exes.”

“Yeah, that’s why- wait, did you seriously think nothing about that at the time? How did you not realize?” Gabriel asks.

“Who assumed you were exes?” Balthazar asks. “You know, I’m actually still unbalanced about- about all of this. This whole morning. What is happening right now?”

Cas looks at his brother, and Gabriel looks right back at him. Cas shrugs.

“Well, I think what’s happening right now is that little Cassie here is about to move in with me,” Gabriel explains.

“Okay, but how-” Balthazar starts to ask.

“He’s my older brother that ran away from our family years ago when our other brother died. It turns out at some point since then he’s acquired a club,” Castiel explains. “I found out about his club, and the fact that he lives here, last semester. He’s the only family I have that won’t disown me for being gay and has a source of actual income.”

“Alright,” Balthazar says. “I can accept all of this. Except how exactly did he just get a club?”

They both turn to Gabriel.

“Well,” Gabriel says, “I didn’t _just_ get it, to be fair. How I got it actually is an interesting story, though…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel left in the "Then" section, and Gabriel and Castiel truly reunite in the "Now" section. 
> 
> Gabriel is really the only person Cas can go to, because most other people Cas knows are Freshmen who live in dorms. Cas can't really move in with them, but he can move in with Gabriel! 
> 
> Wow, the "Then" section here was hard to write. It was actually what I left until last, and now that I've finished it I've finished writing the entire fic. I'm still going to stick to my twice a week updating schedule though. ;)


	36. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Castiel broke up with Dean Winchester.
> 
> Now Cas and Dean finally talk about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic slurs in the "Then" section.

## Then

The text Cas sent had said to meet him at his house, but Dean ran into him before then, about a half a block from his house on their standard route. It was almost eleven at night, and Cas was just standing in a streetlight, wearing this oversized tan coat. He looked like a flasher, or a small serial killer, and the grim look on his face, half in shadows from the streetlight, didn’t help.

“Cas, what the hell’s going on?” Dean asked. “I haven’t heard from you in days, I almost went to your house just to make sure you weren’t dead, and then out of nowhere you’re just like ‘meet me’? Nothing else? I mean, is something wrong?”

Dean could see Cas blink, despite the shadows on his face, but he couldn’t clearly see his eyes. The effect was unsettling, it made Cas seem almost unreal. Dean rubbed a thumb nervously along the edge of his pocket. None of this felt right.

Cas just stands there, completely still, for a few moments before answering.

“I think we should break up,” Castiel said.

_“What?”_ It took a few moments of just open-mouthed shock for Dean to manage the word. If Cas had seemed unreal before, he had taken the world world with him into his unsettling unreality with those words.

“You’re moving, anyway,” Castiel explained. His words carefully calm, almost monotone, like a rote memorization. A poem rehearsed to the point where the words have lost their meaning. “This was always going to end. There’s no point to it going further.”

“No point- _no point?”_ Dean asked. “You said you loved me. Just last week, you said you loved me. Was there no point to that? Did you not mean it, were you- were you fucking lying or something?”

“I wasn’t-” Cas started. He stopped himself, and looked down. He began again, now staring at the ground as he spoke, “We need to get back to the real world now, Dean. Both of us will have to grow up, and date, and marry. This kind of- thing can not continue.”

“Why?” Dean asked. “Seriously, man, where is this coming from? Did someone find out? Do someone do something to you?”

Dean took a couple more steps forward, reaching for Cas, but Castiel flinched back. At least now Dean could see his eyes, which were blue, glassy, and dead. Dean thought they were watering, but it was hard to tell. His face was so tense and hard to read, and it didn’t help that Cas was very evidently avoiding looking into Dean’s eyes.

“No one _did_ anything to me, Dean,” Cas said, “and no one knows. I want to stop, I want you to leave.”

“Cas-” Dean reached out to grab his shoulder, but Cas jerked back again as though Dean had been trying to hit him. His body jerked hard enough for him to lose his balance, and he stumbled back further, and fell.

“Don’t touch me!” Cas said. “Can’t you see?” Castiel started to get louder as he got up, waving his hand as though warding off any chance that Dean might try to help him up. His hands probably smarted from that fall, but Cas didn’t even seem to care. “Can’t you see this is wrong? It’s only going to lead to bad things, Dean- I’m doing this for you, too!”

“Doing this for _me?_ ” Dean’s desperation was turning to anger. “You don’t know what’s best for me! You don’t know that this is wrong- you said it was right! You thought it was right! What, now it’s wrong, or sinful, or whatever?”

“It’s always been wrong, Dean, but now I realize that- I see what could happen!” Castiel’s eyes were wild, and his voice was gruff. Dean thought he was absolutely insane, he just could not understand what Cas was thinking. It made Cas seem strange, flat despite the emotion in his eyes, like a character from a nightmare.

“It’s always been wrong?” Dean repeated. His voice broke. Why would Cas do this to him? “What then, the kissing was wrong? The ‘I love you’ was wrong? What were we then, when we did it? If that was all wrong-”

“It was just a mistake, Dean,” Castiel said. His voice had gone from wild to tired. “We’ll find a couple of girls and forgot about it. You know your father wouldn’t want you to be this way.”

“Since when were you a fan of my dad’s?” Dean asked. Cas wasn’t really answering any of his questions, he was just leaving him more hurt and confused. “Weren’t you all like ‘fuck him’? Now you care?”

“I’m just trying to get you to understand,” Cas pleaded.

“Understand what?” Dean said. “That it was a mistake, that it meant nothing to you? Or that it was some fucking wrong-” Dean stopped. His face twisted from scared and angry to concerned. “Did nothing happen Cas? Really? You know you can tell-”

“Nothing happened!” Cas interrupted. He didn’t want to hear this, he couldn't say anything, couldn't tell Dean _anything_ because the words were trapped in his throats and he wouldn’t even know how to begin to explain his family and- “All that happened was I realize the truth! This is wrong, that I shouldn’t want this, and neither should you!” Cas shook his head, reaching for the right words to communicate the wrongness inside. “That I shouldn’t want this, that I _don’t_ want this.”

“Well, I sure as hell don’t know what’s up with you,” Dean snapped, “but it felt pretty fucking right to me and I know you wanted it too, so maybe you can stop fucking lying to me-”

“Lying?” Castiel repeated. “It was wrong! It was a _sin_!” It seemed like it echoed, even though it couldn’t have. It certainly echoed in the silence of their heads, even after the sound in the air was gone.

“Fuck you,” Dean muttered. He stared right into Cas’s eyes as he said it. “Fuck you,” Dean said again, this time nearly spitting it. “A sin? That what you think? Well, if that’s true, you knew it was a sin as well as I did! If I’m some fucking sinner, some fucking faggot, then so are you!”

Castiel winced, but he didn’t says anything. After all, wasn’t Dean right?

“You should go,” Castiel said. It was order more than statement.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “Yeah, I fucking should, shouldn’t I? I don’t fucking need you anyway. Go to Hell, Cas.” He started to turn, but stopped to send Cas one last glare. “You’re worse than a fag, you know. You’re a coward.”

Dean turned on his heel, and walked away. Cas watched him go, every step leaving Cas more and more raw and empty in its wake. Dean didn’t look back, not once.

It was only after Dean was completely lost to the distance that Cas started crying. He couldn’t stop sobbing, and he couldn’t control it. He dropped to his knees, and hugged them.

_I don’t need him,_ Cas thought. _I don’t need him._

The words sounded hollow even in his own head.

_Fuck him,_ Cas thought. He couldn’t even pretend that he truly meant it, not yet, but it felt better than admitting that- that... Any of it, really.

* * *

## Now

After his talk with Gabriel, after getting settled in, and after Balthazar salvaging what he can of Cas’s possessions still at his old housing, Gabriel and Cas go shopping for everything else he’ll need. Cas buys a new phone. Gabe is paying for it, and Castiel uses it to call Anna first. Gabriel offered to call her, but Cas refuses. He wants to tell her himself.

It’s a difficult conversation, and Cas does leave a few things out, but it’s worth having. He’d get there. He’s talking now, and it’s generally pretty hard. But there are some serious upsides.

Cas’s new phone doesn’t have Dean’s number, but that doesn’t really matter. He’s already memorized Dean’s number.

It still takes him a couple days to build himself up enough to call Dean. What finally motivates him is talking with Meg.

“Well, that is way too much fucking shit, Clarence,” Meg tells him. “No wonder you were fucked up.” She nods, and he knows this is what her forgiveness sounds like. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course,’ Castiel says.

“Who was the boy? In the photo?” Meg asks.

“He, well, he was Dean,” Castiel answers. He pauses, but goes on. “Dean Winchester.”

“Dean Winchest- oh shit!” Meg says. “This Dean Winchester? The one at our school who-”

“Yes,” Castiel cuts in. He doesn’t really want to hear it. “He’s in my English class now, in fact. I don’t think either of us were really… happy to see each other.”

“Damn,” Meg says. “ _Damn._ That, with the two of you, might just be the most awkward, emotionally constipated thing I can imagine.”

“Thanks.”

“Hey, you’re not denying it, are you?” Meg laughs. “God, the only way that could be worse was if the two of you were still into each other- wait.” She looks directly over at him. “Are you still into each other?”

Cas looks at his coffee instead of answering. Stirring it seems much more appealing than answering that question.

“You,” Meg sighs, “are a decent friend, Clarence. Sometimes. Enough that it’s worth me being a good friend back. So here I go.”

“You’re always a good friend,” Castiel says.

“I already forgave you, angel, there’s no need to suck up. Though of course it’s hard not to, being around me,” Meg says. “Anyway, back to me being one hell of a friend: I’ll go talk to Dean for you, get him over here and chatting with you.”

“Thank you, Meg,” Castiel says. “That is a very kind offer.” He really is touched, especially since she’s offering this right after forgiving him. Touched enough that it takes him a moment to realize that the offer isn’t actually necessary. “I mean, I actually have his number, but really, that was a very kind offer-”

“You have his number!?” Meg asks. “So you’ve been in contact with him this whole time?”

“No.” Castiel considers for a moment. “Well, yes. Sort of. Not really.”

“Have you called him since you left that cockroach nest?” Meg asks.

“Well, I’ve intended to, but no, actually,” Castiel answers. “No.”

Meg shakes her head and puts it in her hand. “Call him.”

“What if he doesn’t like me anymore?” Cas asks. It seems so immature, hearing the words out loud, but this was really the main concern that has prevented him from calling Dean. Obviously Dean cared for his basic well-being, or at least seemed to from his texts. Still, that was no guarantee that Castiel’s residual romantic desires were returned. “I honestly have no reason to believe that he does.”

“Only one way to find that out, isn't there?” Meg asks.

“You're the type of person who would teach a small child to swim by throwing them into the deep end, aren’t you?” Castiel asks. But he promises to call Dean.

And he does. Later that night, while in his room in Gabriel’s apartment (previously the guest bedroom), he does.

He taps nervously on his leg as the phone rings, and bites his lip. He nearly starts chewing on his lip, as the ring keeps going on and on. It seems like it might never stop, and Castiel would be left hanging forever.

Yet the longest part of the call is when the ringing cuts off, and Castiel has to wait a beat to hear if he got actually got Dean or just his voicemail. Really it’s no surprise that the sound of Dean’s voice makes him jump.

“Hello?” Dean asks, his voice just a bit thinner through the phone. “Who’s this?”

“Ah.” Cas swallows past the lump in his throat. “It’s me. Castiel. You know, um-”

“Yeah, I know who you are, Cas,” Dean says. The words are impatient, but his tone is soft. “Are you okay? You didn’t seem that great when you texted me. Nothing bad happened, right?”

“Well.” Castiel clears his throat. It’s not just nervousness, anymore. The sound of concern in Dean’s voice just made Cas’s whole throat constrict. It also made him want to cry, and hug Dean. Except he’s on the phone, so he has to just push past it and speak. “Things happened. Things that could be considered bad things. But I’m okay, Dean. I’m fine. I’m at Gabriel’s apartment right now.”

“You brother’s place?” Dean asks. “I didn’t know he lived nearby.”

“I only found out a couple of weeks ago,” Cas says. It might be less than that, actually, but so much has happened. It doesn’t seem possible that it could have been so recent.

“You didn’t know?” Dean asks. Cas can’t really blame him for being puzzled. The lump in Cas’s throat grows, and he tries to swallow it down again. Dean is on the other end of the line. Maybe, just maybe, Dean could be holding him again soon, but Cas can’t afford to cry right now. He needs to talk.

“Yes,” Cas answers. “Or no, I did not know. You know what I mean. Gabriel, he- Dean, there are a lot of things that happened in my family that you don’t know about.”

“Oh. You mean since we, uh, broke up?” Dean asks. It sounds like it’s as awkward for Dean to speak the words as it is for Cas to hear them. _Since we broke up._

“No,” Cas says. “From before. Dean, I- I just- I mean-” Cas stops, and takes a deep, shaky breath. This is hard.

“Since before?” Dean asks. “Cas, did something happen? Is that why you, uh-”

“Yeah,” Cas says. “It’s why I broke up with you. Some things happened in my family, and I couldn’t deal with them, or rather, I dealt badly with them. Part of me dealing badly with them was my decision to stop talking to you and break up with you. I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that. I am sorry.” The words all came out in a flood once Cas started, he wouldn’t be able to stop them if he wanted to.

“Well, I didn’t deal the best with you breaking up with me either,” Dean says. “So, you know.”

“Dean, that’s not your fault,” Cas tells him. “How could anyone have dealt well with that?”

“How could anyone have dealt well with the shit your family threw at you?” Dean retorts.

“You don’t even know what happened with my family,” Cas says. “It still doesn’t justify my behavior.”

“Well, then you breaking up with me doesn’t justify my words, either,” Dean points out. “And, you know Cas, you can tell me what happened with your family. I don’t want to pressure you, I mean, I can’t say I don’t want to know, but what I really mean is that, you know, I’m right here. I mean, I’m right here on the other side of this phone. Or- gah! You get what I mean.”

“Yeah.” Cas smiles at his phone receiver, and hopes that Dean can hear the smile in his voice. “I know what you mean. It’s a bit of a story, do you want to hear it now?”

“Well, I got nothing else to do,” Dean says. “Lay it on me. I’m here.”

“Okay.” Cas takes a deep breath before he begins. “Lucifer was on a downward spiral. You knew that. We all knew that. One night, well, he hit bottom. He overdosed. That’s the night I stopped answering your calls. I didn’t even see it- I wasn’t in the same room as him that night, even- I just heard it from Gabriel and Anna. Mother sent us to our rooms. We didn’t talk about it. I should’ve texted you, I know I should’ve, but I just felt so detached from everything. The phone would buzz and I would look at your texts and just feel numb. I didn’t even know how to answer.”

Cas tries to take another deep breath, now, but it breaks down into a sob. Dean starts speaking on the other end.

“Hey, hey,” Deans says. “It’s okay. I hear you. I get it. That must’ve sucked. Uh, hey, Cas, out of curiosity, where do you live? With Gabriel?”

Cas wipes his eyes. “2018 3rd Street,” he answers. “Why?”

“No reason,” Dean says. “Just, you know, I like to know you’re safe. And I maybe want to visit.”

Cas sobs again, because apparently that is the only physical reaction his body is capable of right now. He’s vaguely irritated at it. A sob is a ridiculous way to express happiness.

“I would like that, Dean, I really would,” Cas says. He decides to press onwards, before his body gets too out of his control. “Me and Gabriel, we visited Lucifer in the hospital, just a couple days later, and it was horrible. He was in intensive care, he looked so terrible and pale, and there were machines all around him. And he was alone, Dean. He was all alone, no one in our family was waiting there for him. No one was there for him. He died in that hospital, a few days later, and I just- he didn’t deserve to die like that. He wasn’t my favorite sibling, and I wasn’t as good a sibling to him as I should’ve been, but he was my family. How could he have deserved to die like that? We had a funeral for him, but was months later. Gabriel wasn’t even there, either, it was after he left. And-”

“Wait,” Dean interrupts. “Gabriel left?”

“Yeah,” Cas says. “He ran away. He ran away, and our mother just disowned him. We talked less about him than we did about Lucifer. I can’t even imagine what he was going through, I kept thinking of how he would be alone, too. I was sad for him, but pissed, too. I don’t think I even knew how pissed until I saw him here, but that’s a different story.”

“Will you tell me that one too, sometime?” Dean asks.

“Of course, Dean,” Cas says. “I’m going to tell you every single fucking story I have, if you’ll listen.”

“No swearing, Cas, remember?”

Cas laughs. It’s a bit choked, but it's real. Dean would make him laugh at a time like this, with some terrible joke. Some terrible joke that Cas should find inappropriate, but instead loves.

“Gabriel left, and Lucifer was dead, and I just kep thinking ‘this is what happens’,” Cas continues. He doesn’t need a segue. Dean would actually have to try to make him stop talking now that the story is started. “‘This is what happens when you rebel, you end up alone’. Maybe I wouldn’t have been so alone if I hadn't broken up with you, I mean, obviously I know I wouldn’t have been so alone if I hadn’t broken up with you, but I didn’t think of it like that back then. I thought of you moving away. I thought of you moving away and terrible things happening to both of us, because we rebelled. I thought I had been free of all my guilt and self-hatred over our- over being gay, but it turns out it was just waiting for a moment to strike.”

“And that was the moment?” Dean clarifies. “Lucifer dying and Gabriel running away?”

“Yeah,” Cas says. “That was the moment.” He slumps down and puts his head in his hand, and discovers that his face is wet. He’d been crying without realizing. “Dean, I’m sorry for breaking up with you. I’m sorry for doing it to you, and I’m sorry for doing it to me.”

“You might’ve been right,” Dean points out. “I might’ve just left anyway, and then we’d still be alone.”

“It still shouldn’t have ended like that,” Cas says. “It should’ve ended beautifully, if at all. With us together against the world. Not like that.”

“Well, look at that, Cas,” Dean remarks. “You’re a romantic.”

“Only for you,” Cas says. Then he remembers that he and Dean haven’t actually gotten back together, that they’d only been talking about what happened. “I’m sorry, I hope that didn’t make you uncomfortable, I didn’t mean to assume-”

“Well, I’ve been making assumptions, too,” Dean says. “For instance, right now I’m on my way to your apartment. Gabriel’s apartment.”

“What?” Cas asks.

“Oh, I mean,” Dean hesitates, “only if you want me to come. I’m not that far out, I can turn back now if it would make you feel uncomfortable or anything, but you said-”

“It’s fine,” Cas says. “Why haven’t I heard you moving, though?”

“Headphones,” Dean explains. “Christmas gift from Bobby.”

“Are you really coming here?” Cas can’t deny the painful, hopeful feeling that's squeezing his stomach right now.

“Yeah… I thought it would be a good idea,” Dean’s voice sounds a bit sheepish, “but I just realized it could also be really creepy. I can really just turn back now-”

“No,” Cas tells him. “We should have this conversation in person anyway.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” Dean says. “‘Cause I’m already here.”

“What?” Cas straightens up. “Here? Already?”

“Yeah, you actually live really nearby,” Dean explains.

“Oh,” Cas remembers walking Dean home. His dorm had been on this side of campus. “Right. I remember. Are you actually at the door?”

“Um, yeah.” Cas barely waits for Dean before shoving the phone in his pocket, and rushing out his room to the door. He runs down two flights of stairs and nearly trips over while running to the door. He pauses, and takes a moment to gather himself before opening it. Sure enough Dean is waiting for him on the other side, standing hunched up in the cold, and still perfect. Cas’s heart skips a beat and he just wants to drag Dean in and never let him go again.

It’s snowing outside. It might be the first snowfall that year, actually, and Dean’s dark leather jacket and blond hair are lightly coated in it. His hands are shoved into his pockets and Cas is willing to bet that he isn’t even wearing gloves. It doesn’t matter, Dean’s small, self-conscious smile is the warmest thing Cas has seen today.

“You went out like that?” Cas asks. He shakes his head. “You should probably get in here before you freeze to death on Gabriel’s front stoop.”

He stands back, holding the door open, and Dean walks in after only a moment of hesitation. Cas lets the door swing shut.

They both stand there, Dean still holding himself and shivering, staring at each other. Neither speaks.

To Dean, this seems unreal. Impossible. Here Cas is, standing right in front of him, looking just as adorable as ever. How could this even be possible?

Cas is in a deep blue sweater and grey sweatpants. Cas’s hair is an absolute bird’s nest and his lime green socks are fluffy enough to be slippers. If anyone had asked Dean before this moment if that kind of outfit would look good on anyone he would have laughed and said probably not, but damn if Dean didn’t find Cas sexy as anything. He always did find Cas attractive, though, even these past few months when it hurt to look at him.

Now it's different. Now Cas has been speaking to him, explaining what happened and apologizing. Now Dean thinks- he can’t be sure but he thinks- that Cas might just still feel the same way about him.

They stand there for long minutes, just staring at each other as though just now seeing each other again for the first time. Cas breaks the silence first.

“I know I made a grave mistake in the way I dealt with things,” Cas says, “and I know it hurt you. I’m sorry for that, but if you’d be willing to give me, to give us, a second chance, without my family around to-”

Dean doesn’t wait for him to finish his sentence. He steps forward and grabs Cas, pulling him into a kiss. He hopes it's not too rough, but he’s waited so long, and he was never sure he’d ever get this again. It still doesn’t quite seem like it's real, but Dean needs it to be real. He needs this kiss, to feel Cas again and know that he’s there.

Cas doesn’t think it’s too much, not one bit of it. He grabs Dean’s shoulder and puts another hand on the side of his face, trying to press the two of them together even more. He kisses Dean eagerly, sloppily, like he’s fifteen again and all he has is his enthusiasm. Dean doesn’t seem to mind, though. There’d be time for nice, skillful kisses later, this is the time for trying to kiss away all the doubt and fear.

They kiss for long minutes. Dean is cold with snow, but Cas doesn’t care. He unzips Dean’s jacket and presses up against the warmth. It doesn’t matter that they’re standing in the entryway for the whole apartment, it doesn’t matter that they’ll eventually need use their mouths for something other than this, all that matters is they’re kissing again.

Cas can feel Dean’s heartbeat through their shirts, and it races along and matches his own. Everything Cas has suppressed for all these years, even before he and Dean parted ways, seems to be breaking apart at this moment. Cas moans and Dean feels the vibrations in his chest and throat.

That’s about when Dean realizes that if they continue like this they’ll end up having sex in a foyer and he pulls back. Cas lets him and for a couple moments they just stare at each other again, both breathing hard.

“Cas,” Dean says. A short syllable that contains so much. “Cas, I’m sorry too. I’m sorry for pretending you never happened, I’m sorry for lying when I didn’t need to, I-”

Cas interrupts him with another kiss. This time it's a shorter one, seconds only.

“It’s okay, Dean,” Cas breathes. “It’s okay.” He looks directly into Dean’s eyes, so familiar to him, and studies them some more. “I understand, if there’s anything I understand it’s having to lie about it. Even if you didn’t have to, I understand still needing to.”

Dean chuckles. “We’re both still fucked up, I guess.”

“We’re better, though,” Cas says. He runs his thumb over Dean’s jaw. What a gift, to get to touch him again. “We’re in a better place. This time we’ll know that it’ll be okay.”

“No, we don’t,” Dean says. “We never know that it’ll be okay.”

Cas sighs.

“True,” he admits, “but this time we have a chance. I think it’s worth it.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. His breath is shaky, and it’s not just from the kiss. It’s from his own nervousness, his vulnerability in saying this. “It’s worth it. I’m just scared, Cas. It was so hard last time, to end like that, and we never know.”

“I’m scared, too,” Cas says. He moves his other hand up from Dean’s shoulder to his face, and cups his jaw with his hands. “It hurt so much, but if we don’t do this it will still hurt. I know it will still hurt me, at least.”

Dean nods. He can’t disagree, he knows it’s true.

“I can’t promise to be perfect, Dean,” Cas continues. “I can’t promise that I won’t be broken, or that things won’t be rough.”

“Broken or not, Cas, I’ll have you,” Dean says. Cas smiles. He can feel tears welling up his eyes.

“I always knew you were a sap, Dean,” Cas says. He’s about to start crying, any minute now, he knows it.

“Not a sap, Cas,” Dean corrects. “A romantic, just like you.”

“Come on, then, romantic,” Cas pulls away. “I’ll show you my room.”

“Wow, fast moving romantic there, aren’t you?” Dean asks.

“I have no idea what you’re implying,” Cas says. “I just thought we could talk and cry a bit.”

Dean laughs, and follows when Cas gestures to follow him. They go up to his room, and they do get to some talking and perhaps a bit of crying. They get to a few other things, too, and it’s lucky that it’s a Saturday night and Gabriel’s out managing the club, because Dean doesn’t end up returning to his dorm that evening. They have the whole apartment to themselves, and it feels like an impossible luxury.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me. :)


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then Cas and Dean set off fireworks together with their friends.
> 
> Not Cas and Dean attend pride together with their friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, I know, it goes on, it gets old  
> But for now we're young, we smell good, we're alone, so alive.
> 
> You look for a legend,  
> I'm looking for common ground.  
> Your heart isn't breaking,  
> And mine isn't making a sound.
> 
> \- [“Light a Roman Candle with Me”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PKoBTEcq8Ck) [Fun](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/fun/lightaromancandlewithme.html).

##  Then

“Are these really safe?” Cas asked. 

“They’re legal,” Jo supplied as an answer. 

“That’s not what I asked,” Cas said. 

“Pfft, they’re safe enough,” Dean said. “We’ve been using them for years, me and Sam, and we’ve never gotten hurt.” 

A car, a field, a few boxes of fireworks, and some kids. Dean was driving the Impala which was, technically, illegal for him to do without an adult, but he’d done it a good amount even before he’d gotten his learner’s permit and was familiar with the car. Jo’s mother would probably kill her and John both in the morning when she learned that he hadn’t been supervising them, but Jo wasn’t worried about Ellen’s wrath that night. 

It wasn’t a night to be worried, that fourth of July, it was a night to be young. They drove with all the windows down and for most of the trip Dean blasted the music, which none of them objected to. Jo even told him to turn it up a couple times.

They set them off in an empty field that Dean deemed far enough from civilization. They all took turns lighting them and running away, though Dean only let Sam light two. 

Dean set off the first firework and ran over to where Cas was watching, nervously behind a truck (it was his first time seeing fireworks). For the first couple he frowns at the noise and nearly hides behind Dean, but the light was too beautiful and the night air too intoxicating for Cas to stay fearful. He volunteered to light the fifth one. 

Cas and Dean stood close together, nudging each other, brushing hands and shoulders in the darkness. The darkness protected them, gave them the privacy and intimacy that wasn’t just desired but enforced on their relationship. In the darkness they could just be them, and no one would really be able to see. It was intimacy; intimacy that would belong just to them whether they could ever be out in the light or not. 

Dean couldn’t stop himself from looking over at Cas. He wanted to memorize the dramatic angles of Castiel’s face in these flashes of light, the tilt to his chin as he looked up toward the sky, the width of his eyes and, most of all, Dean wanted to memorize the small gasp that Cas took at the wonder of it all. For Dean himself, who’d seen and loved fireworks so many times before, Cas’s face was worth more the fireworks themselves.

Cas glanced over, and his glance turned into a longer look as he caught Dean’s stare. His eyes were shadowed by the sparks, his face blinking in and out as the illumination of the fireworks came and left. Dean wanted to kiss him, even leaned in to do so, but he held back, uncertain of Cas would be comfortable with something like that around Sam and Jo, even with the darkness to cover them.

Cas looked over at each Dean, in the dark with nothing but the light of the fireworks hitting his face, and then out at all of their friends looking away. When he turned back Dean was still staring. Dean leaned in to kiss him but paused, hesitating. Cas leaned forward to close the distance and gave Dean one very quick kiss on the lips.

It was their only kiss in front of other people; dark and no one could see them, but still the only kiss where other people, other people that they knew, were around.

They didn’t know what was coming for them, but they knew their situation wasn’t promising. They knew there were more, many more, bad endings than good for what they had. Still, at that moment, fleeting though it was, it didn’t matter one bit what the future had in store for them.

* * *

##  Now - Several Months Later

“Honestly, your midsummer concert last night was awesome, it wasn’t some huge obligation,” Dean says. 

“I know that classical music isn’t really your cup of tea, though,” Cas explains. He absently pulls his fingers through Dean’s hair. They both rest on a large blanket, under a shady tree, and watch the Pride Festival wind down. The blanket belongs to the Campus LGBT Center, but everyone else is still out exploring the festival so Cas and Dean have it to themselves for a few quiet moments. 

They’d already bought as much pride gear as their budget allowed for, and had agreed together that it was too hot to spend too much time wandering around. Dean had passed out on the blanket earlier, without even bothering to take off his new rainbow sweat bands or “Cutie Bi” t-shirt, complete with bi-flag colored pie, layered over his Campus LGBT Center t-shirt, as Cas explored the section of the festival filled with the gay friendly churches and gathered a number of fliers. Religion had left a pretty big hole in his life, and after a few months of being very resentful he’s decided that he wants to look for a more open, healthy kind of faith. 

Cas had met Dean back here and they’d decided that it might be too hot to move but that didn’t make it too hot to cuddle a bit. 

“Meg told me that she wants to start a rock band earlier to today, and I think she wants me in it, though it may just be to get on Anna’s good side.” Cas rolls his eyes, and adds, “I swear she would do anything to date my sister except actually ask her out- but, anyway, if you don’t mind going to my classical concerts at all maybe I should just pass that opportunity by…”

Dean’s eyes fly open and his soft smile is transforms into open mouthed shock as his content expression changes to horror.

“Of course you should join Meg’s band!” He exclaims. “Your classical stuff is fun and tweetilly and dramatic and all that, but a rock band would be FUCKING SWEET! You could have screaming fans and epic t-shirts and posters and- and you’re laughing because you were just fucking with me.”

Cas manages to control himself for a moment. “Not about Meg’s plans, she is ready to start a band and she’s pretty clear that I have a place in it if I want. I just find your reaction so…”

“Predictable?” Dean rolls his eyes. “Real mature.”

“Enthusiastic,” Cas suggests instead. He gives Dean a little nudge. “Adorable. Of course I’ll at least give this band a shot.”

“Really?” Deans aks. “You don’t have to do it just for me you know, Yeah, I like the idea, but it’s your life and all.”

“I”m not just doing it for you, assbutt,” Cas says. He shakes his head mockingly. “I happen to be a talented musician up for exploring all kinds of genres.”

“Yeah, but in the end it all has to be for the fans, that’s the rules, that’s what they always say,” Dean says, “and I will be your number one fan beginning to end.”

“Well, as you know, I am a wild card,” Cas points out. “Not to mention that it turns out Balthazar is into all kinds of music you’d never expect from him. You might just have competition for number one fan.” 

“Long as I never end up with competition for number-one boyfriend, I’m good,” Dean says. He runs a hand through Cas’s hair and leans into his ear. “Your number one boyfriend, of course. If we included all boyfriends I lost that one when you made me pie for finals week.”

“Really?” Cas asks. “I think you might just be able to give me a run for my money. We’ll have to have a competition.” He pauses, then adds without changing his contemplative expression. “A boyfriend-off, as it were.” 

Dean laughs. “Gotta get that challenge in our lives!” he agrees. “Can’t let things get too easy for us now that we’re surrounded by supportive, non-dysfunctional people.” 

Cas goes quiet, and doesn’t reply for a long moment. Dean angles himself over to look at Cas more clearly, and sees that his expression has actually gone serious this time. 

“Some things are still hard,” Cas says softly. 

“Yeah,” Dean agrees. Cas still looks down, and he doesn’t want to leave it at that, so he continues, “Something wrong? Was it a bad session yesterday?” In therapy, Dean means, but he doesn’t have to say it. 

“No,” Cas says. “Well, not more than usual,” he admits with a small, wiry smile, “it’s just...”

“Therapy?” Dean asks. Cas shakes his head no.

“It’s just that things will always be hard, in some way or another,” Cas says, “but it’s okay. We have time, now, to figure it all out. In highschool we were trapped, but we’re not anymore. We have all the time in the world to find the things we need, to heal and un-learn and re-learn, together.”

Dean hums in agreement. “I’ll go through fifty years of therapy as long as I get to come home to you, baby.” He can feel Cas’s laugh as much as hear it. They are close enough for him to feel the vibrations of his lungs. Likewise he doesn’t even need to see the smile on Cas’s face, he can hear it in his voice as Cas responds.

“Yeah,” Cas says, running a hand through Dean’s hair. “Together.” They pause their planning to sit in the shade, curled up together.

They kiss and it’s for all the world to see, not that the world matters. Things aren’t perfect, but now there’s no deadline, no painful end looming ahead of them.

Just a future now full of possibilities, music, memories, and kisses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know the last chapter was probably a bit too quick with the getting-back-together, I got feedback from commenters about that. This is the first long piece I've ever written so it's been tricky trying to get everything together, and I might come back later and do some editing of that scene and add another chapter after chapter 36 and before this end one, but I don't really have time to do that right now. 
> 
> I hope you all still enjoyed this story. I know I enjoyed writing it.


End file.
